The Stray
by early-recoil
Summary: A fallen Rock star finds her path to a new home, but true to life, the contentment ends when old acquaintances begin making themselves known. How will the 18 yr old Clara Jax adjust to this new beginning she's been given? Slow burn, give it a shot.
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. **

The sky above seemed the same. It always did, maybe a little clearer now. But the stars shone brightly and it made the world seem familiar. She remembered the same sky above her tent in her back yard as a child, the same as when she'd wrecked her first car then the first time her band had played their first sold out stage in Texas. It had been raining all day, but cleared up right before they went on. Thousands of faces and arms waving in the open night air. She remembered the humid air making her skin sticky and her shirt feeling like a second skin.

She'd been 16. She had been discovered online, immediately signed and given a band. They toured for a year and right after her 17th birthday she was featured as Rolling Stone's 'Rock's Princess and Your Guiltiest Pleasure'. Her family had went crazy with her wealth and her mom checked into rehab. But she never let it get her down. She made music, toured and posed for controversial photo shoots. She had been the youngest person ever to be in the 'Sexiest' list every celebrity trained up and strived to be on. Her songs known across homes all over the world. She'd been picketed, honored and even kissed babies.  
Her band performed for the royals of the UK and made so much money she couldn't spend it all. She had it made. But she'd worked for it. Growing up poor would do that. Of course the world hadn't known that. They seen the edgy records about sex appeal, the leather, glamorous make up and cut low shirts.  
But then everything fell to shit. The world died. Well most of it. Zombies. The paranoid kooks had been right. Her family, band, bosses and fans mostly dead. By Gods grace she was alive and had lucked out. It had been a year since everything fell apart.

She was alone and traveling. So nights like tonight, Clara Jax, enjoyed the sky that reminded her of days before. Her legs dangled over the tree limbs as she secured her safety harness she'd found in a sporting goods store. Her back pack and guitar case hidden within bushes, she hunkered down to get some sleep.  
Her chest rose and fell under a night sky that made her relax and broke her heart simultaneously. One day, Clara hoped. One day, she'd find people who wouldn't try to dominate or rape her. Who would take her in as a regular person and not see her as a conquest or trophy. Her life on the run had been hard. She'd had to learn so much. How to fend for herself, how to hunt, how to gather…how to kill not only the dead but the living.  
Almost 19 years old. Been around the world. Sang in front of millions. Been bathed in diamonds. Now she was in tight torn jeans, hunting boots, plaid shirt and no makeup what so ever. Her mouth turned up in a rueful smile. Oh how the mighty have fallen.

When she woke in the morning, she heard something. It sounded like squirrels or chipmunks maybe. She yawned quietly and looked around. She carefully undid the harness and descended the she landed on her feet, the noise caught her attention again. Her bladder screamed at her as she went behind a bush. Clara groaned as the fall's chill hit her bare bottom.

"Shit!" She hissed as she finished up and gathered her things ready to head out.

Her map showed a small town a few miles out and she hoped to reach it by noon, and that depended on what she encountered along the way. Her water bottle was was running low, so she made a mental note to fill it up at the next stream. An hour or two of walking in silence she hummed and quietly sang to herself. Her hazel eyes trained on the scenery. Clara loved the fall. It reminded her of Thanksgiving and being with her crew on the road.  
But soon after she smiled she frowned, everyone was dead. She shook it off and decided to stop to eat a granola bar. It was a blueberry one and it felt good settled in her stomach. Despite the sunshine her body was chilled. She really hoped there was some stuff left somewhere where she could at least find some canned goods and maybe a heavy coat. Clara would like to wash up somewhere out of the weather, too. She knew she had went south months ago, now traipsing around in Georgia.

More hours later she found herself sneaking down back allies in the town she'd been looking for. There was walkers here and there, but nothing she couldn't get around or take care of. There was a general store that had been picked through, but she managed to get a few cans of soup and corn. She grabbed some new socks and bandages. Immediately she stuffed her back pack with what she found and went to walk out when her hackles rose.

It was an engine. Sounded like a car. Her heart raced and fear uncurled in her belly. She feared the living more than the dead. Humans were usually ruthless, but she tried keeping hope for someday finding a home. She ducked behind the counter and became still. She gripped the .38 Special she took off the body of a jealous girlfriend of a past…hiccup. she only had about a dozen bullets left for it in het pocket. Clara breathed in deeply as she heard the voices outside. Male and a female.

She concentrated trying to hear them through the broken glass of the front door. They were talking about a list and something about a baby. Her heart sank. What a world to keep a baby in. She frowned and let her thoughts drift as the couple came into the store, shoes crushing broken glass beneath them.  
"Door wasn't broken last week." The woman whispered. Her southern draw colored her words. Then the male spoke up, less of an accent.  
"Noticed that. Think someones been here?"

The woman sighed. "I dunno, maybe. Seen those dead walkers around the corner. They were recently killed."

Clara felt her nerves jump and her breath quicken. Shit. She was gonna get made. Slowly and as carefully as possible she crawled towards the back where and exit had to be. The 18 yr old found the barred door and silently hauled her pack onto her back. She slipped out and put her gun into her thigh holster. She took out her machete and had it ready to head back from where she came.

Her boot padded quietly on the pavement until she rounded the corner and was confronted by a group of walkers. Her breath hitched and she skidded to a stop. There was at least a dozen. Clara gripped the handle and her eyes found her guitar case on the other side. She gritted her teeth and slowly stepped back behind the corner of the store. The gargling and groans from the walkers made her hair stand on end. Clara was waiting for the two inside to realize what danger lingered outside. She waited a few moments, still nothing. Frustrated, knowing she couldn't live with herself if a baby starved to death because these two died.

Her hands gripped the gun and pulled it out. The revolver felt heavy as she looked for someplace to perch from while she got everyones attention. The fire escape across the road would work. She took a deep breath and stepped back out. As soon as she aimed her gun at a walkers head, she heard something behind her. Clara spun around and then there was blue eyes looking right into hers. She wanted to scream but he covered her mouth with a callused hand.

"Quiet now, wouldn't wanna make a scene…" His voice was gruff and he spun her around, taking the revolver from her hands. She wanted to fight him but he shh'd her again.

"M'not gonna hurt you girl, my peoples in there. They know what they are doin."

Clara was scared as his hands were still on her, holding her to him in restraint. She seen his hand drop out of sight and felt him put the gun in her holster.

"You can keep that there, understood?" She nodded and he started to pull away, as if he was waiting on her to lash out.

She probably should have. But she kept her eyes straight ahead and felt pissed she'd let him get the on up on her. When her back lost the excess heat she knew he was out of her personal space.

"You alone?" He asked casually as if there wasn't walkers merely 20 odd yards away. Her instinct was to lie, but then she heard the back door opening. Duh. Her cheeks colored and she felt like an idiot. These people weren't idiots, obviously.

"Yeah, for a while now." She kept her eyes glued on the threat in front of her while her other senses kept on the one behind her.

"Killed any people before?" His question threw her off but before she could answer it she heard a crash and the woman gasp. Clara flinched as she knew the woman must have bumped into the stack pallets behind the store.

"Shit!" The man behind her hissed as he took off in other's direction.

Clara watched as the walkers averted towards her and they started groaning and reaching out. She gritted her teeth. She never gets a good break!  
Carefully she pulled her machete out and took a deep breath. Her mind wondered where the others were, probably leaving her to deal with this. Whatever. She set her jaw and dropped her pack against the building.

"Alright assholes." She said simply as she gave a good warm up swing and cracked her neck. Her muscles bound up and she sprung.  
The first few fell like flies, she kept the swings controlled and close into her body. Then as more rushed her she pushed, pulled, ducked and jumped…trying to avoid any bites. But she wasn't alone for along as she noticed new faces hacking away at the crowd of dead. A pretty brunette with large eyes. She was taller than her, slightly older…but pretty. Then there was an asian guy, ball cap and tee shirt. His face was screwed up while he focused.

She wondered where the other guy was long enough to get pushed into a wall by two walkers. She growled and tried to kick but they had her legs pinned. Clara's eyes watered as something painful went through her thigh. She was dead now. She was bitten.

Her anger pumped adrenaline through her and she pushed them off. Her machete raised and came down hard into a head, then before she could get the other it fell over. Her body shook as she seen the crossbow bolt glistening with walker other two were done and watching her lean against the building. She let tears fall over her cheeks and she made eye contact with the woman. The woman looked at her cautiously. Clara smiled, clearing her throat.

"I'm too scared to look. Is it bad?" She felt the pain in her left thigh burning. Clara felt woozy at the thought of how horrific her leg must be. The woman shook her head and came up to her.

"We can fix it. My dad should be able to patch you right up…"

Clara smiled, now sweating and accepting the womans out stretched hand. "Can't fix a bite…" Before she could finish she heard the woman sigh.

"Sweetheart, Daryl shot you with his crossbow." The brunette eyed her and finally Clara looked down, blanching.

"Oh..damn! That sucks….but I'll take it."

The Asian guy lifted Clara's arm around his shoulders and helped support her weight. "I'll have Daryl get her stuff, lets get her in the car. We need to wrap her thigh."

They worked as a pair to help the hobbling girl over to the car they'd drove into town. She hissed as they laid her down in the back seat. All the adrenaline was out of her system and she was in pain! Her hazel eyes watched them run back and forth, piling stuff into the trunk and waiting on the other guy  
to bring on her case and pack.

"So..you guys have somewhere safe?"

Her voice wavered as her head felt light and her body felt more chilled. The other woman slid into the drivers seat and snapped at the other guy, Daryl, about something. She turned as she shut her car door and the Asian guy shut the door at Clara's feet. She seen him a second later climbing into shotgun.  
As soon as she had time to wonder where her shooter was she felt her torso being lifted and someone sliding in under her. Her head was starting to spin and she looked up into blue eyes. He looked aggravated. She gave him one in return.

"You shot me, asshole." She had wanted that to sound like a serious accusation, but her voice was weak with blood loss.

Daryl looked down at her and nodded."Yes'm I did. Walker moved las' second."

The woman driver had started talking but Clara could no longer hang on to her coherency. Without protest she passed out in the back of that car.

**Thank you for reading. Please comment and let me know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I Own Nothing. **

Daryl held the shirt around the girl's thigh tightly. He was grateful she'd passed out because he could only imagine how bad it must hurt. He noticed how pale she was and figured it must be from blood loss. The back seat was coated almost. He pulled the shirt tighter and took a deep breath. Maggie was flying and he knew it was at least 15 more minuets until they were back to the prison.

"Was she alone?" Maggie asked, peeking around to look at him briefly. Daryl nodded.

"Said she was. She was gonna try'n get your attention to let yall know about the walkers. I watched her sneak out the back and she was gonna draw 'em off."

He watched Maggie's expression soften as she sped up. Glenn sighed.

"She looks young."

Daryl grunted in agreement. "Can't be more'n 20. Maybe."

He adjusted his crossbow into the floor between the front seats, quickly applying pressure again. In the silence he took her in. She was maybe 5 ft 4. Little over 140 pounds. She had good muscle tone by what he saw of the few inches of exposed stomach. Her hips were jutting out and he moved on from that quickly. Her face was soft and showed her youth. Daryl lifted her arm up to examine her hand. Hands tell a lot about a person. She had soft hands but slight calluses on her palm and tougher ones on her finger tips. He'd grabbed her guitar case so he knew what those were from. He laid her hand back down across her body. The older man touched her pony tail. She had pretty straight dirty blond hair. It was soft and taken care of. But her clothes were something out of necessity.

"How's she doing?" Maggie asked, pulling his attention away. Daryl nodded and kept the pressure up.

"She's still breathing, awfully pale though.."

The woman jerked the car to the left as she hit the road that led to the prison.

"Few more minuets, almost there." Maggie had it to the floor and for Daryl, he just wanted to get her to Hershel. He didn't know her from Adam, but he recognized that fighters spirit in her. He could tell by her reaction to him there was a lot to be said for her yet . Most women in her position would have left them on their own…though he would have had it under control. He looked up and seen Carl and Michonne running to get the gate open, guessing by their speed something was wrong.

"Get her to Dad, I'll follow and we'll worry bout the car later." Maggie said with hurry in her voice as she skidded to a stop.

By now a few other people stood by, looking afraid to see who'd been hurt. Daryl wanted to roll his eyes, damn dramatics. He swung the door open and pulled the girl out by her arms. He tried not moving her leg too much until he had her in his arms. He grumbled when he had to bounce her up a little to get a better handle on and her.

Carol ran up, flushed and looked them all over, relieved. "What's going on? I was worried…who's this?"

Daryl strode past her and sighed. "I dunno, bumped inta her in town. Walkers. Accidentally shot her. Ya know."

The older woman looked bewildered as she ran ahead of him to open doors. Maggie caught up and ran ahead to get Hershel informed. By the time Daryl got her to the cell that was being used for medical care, the gray haired man was ready. "Lay her down on the bed. How long has she been unconscious?"

"Bout 15 minuets or so. From what I could see, it went righ' through and stuck."

Hershel nodded and unbound her leg, making his initial examination. He took a deep breath and caught Maggie's attention.

"Im gonna need some water and if we got any alcohol left, bring it."

Daryl decided to break the tense air in the room. "For rubbin or for drinkin?"

His comment made the old man grin and nod. "Both."

Maggie shot a unapproving glare at them both and left to fetch it. Hershel took out a pair of scissors and began cutting most of the left pant leg off, leaving her decently covered.

"We're going to have to either cut it or push.." Daryl blanched and shook his head.

"Oh hell nah, I can screw the broad head off and you can back it out.." He followed Hershel's lead as he lifted her leg enough so Daryl could unscrew the field tip off the bolt. When Maggie returned she had rags and the rubbing alcohol ready to go.

"When you're ready Dad." She said as she moved Daryl out of the way. He gladly moved aside and stood off to the side, watching. He was curious, listening to the pair talk and work so well together.

"Hopefully her artery is intact…" Hershel spoke, voice sounding slightly grave. His eyes met Daryl's…it made him very uneasy. "If it was hit…I'm afraid there's not much I can do."

The hunter nodded and began chewing on his thumb nail, stopping when he tasted her blood. He watched as they pulled the bolt out and Maggie immediately started cleaning the area and getting thread and a needle ready for stitches.

"Well?" Daryl asked as he felt his stomach in knots. He'd hate to be the reason this girl dies. How shitty of a way for someone like that to die. Hershel let out a breath and smiled.

"She'll live. Lost a lot of blood but she'll be okay. Just stuck in bed for a while." At his words, Maggie smiled.

"Daryl said she was gonna try to draw a group of walkers away from us before we knew they were there. What kinda girl does that for strangers these days?" The woman poured some more alcohol on the wound before letting her father start stitching.

"A good hearted one does. Unfortunately we don't meet much people like that. Too many takers out there, almost no givers left…" The old man trailed off and concentrated on his task at hand.

Daryl watched and thought about what he had said. Girl sure didn't seem like a bad apple. He'd met plenty of bitches, she didnt remind him of any of them off hand. She was really gonna stick her neck out for em. Bad people don't do that. Before he could get himself too involved in his thoughts, Rick came to see what was going on. Daryl walked him down the walkway and told him about what had happened. The ex sheriff deputy listened and let him finish before saying anything.

"And you shot her?" He gave Daryl that look he gives people when he's trying to really think.

"Yeah. Walker moved last minuet. Shot er right in the thigh. She freaked out thinkin she'd been bit. She wouldn't even look at it. Feisty lil thing, called me an asshole."

Daryl didn't bother hiding his smile and Rick nodded, also smiling.

"Well, she's got you figured out." The ex sheriff chuckled and patted the hunter on the shoulder. "Get her stuff outta the car, go through it. If anything sticks out lemme know. If she checks out we'll let her stay if she wants. We could use the help." Rick scratched his beard and slid past him, peeking in as Hershel was wrapping her thigh up. The old man gave him a nod, signaling she'd be alright. Rick smiled again at Daryl and shook his head. "I got a feelin about this one Dixon."

With that he went past him and back to his watch. Daryl groaned and after a bit, Carol drug him away to get some food. He ended up telling the story of what happened to her and everyone else sitting close by. He found himself tired as Carol began cleaning up. He checked the time and knew he had a few hours before night would settle and it would be his turn to keep watch with Carl.

Daryl went out to the car and and retrieved his crossbow and her stuff. Eyes watched him as he carried it all upstairs to his cell and began going through it. He found the usual. Clothes, first aid kit, a few knives, pain killers…which he left out to take to her later…some the canned food she'd grabbed and a bunch of other things. All and all he decided she checked out. He flipped open her guitar case and what he found shocked him. There was pictures stuck to the inside. She was all done up, makeup and leather. His eyes roamed over them all. A bunch with the same four guys…a dog with pink hair…and many more.

He felt like he was intruding but Rick had asked him…Daryl lifted the guitar up and examined it. It had plenty of wear on it. The neck was black and the body some kinda light wood that had been stained to be gray. Guitar picks were scattered along the bottom of the case and an old Rolling Stones magazine.

He picked it up and turned it over…and there she was. Hair being blown back by some invisible air stream. Lips ruby red and glossy. Her eyes lined with black looking like she wanted to eat you alive.

She was in a super short cut off tee shirt and skin tight leather pants with chains hanging off them. The name JAX written in lipstick across the mirror behind her. He remembered that band. He had heard a few of their songs every time he'd went into a bar. They were one of those new age rack bands. In the corner of the page in bold black and red 'Clara Jax…Rocks Dirty Secret'. Then it sank in. Holy shit. He shot Clara Jax. Despite himself he smirked, well damn. He remembered a few of her songs, though he'd never admit it in a million years. After a few more minuets he put her stuff back the way it was and took it to the cell she was currently sleeping in.

Hershel was cleaning up and he noted her guitar case. "Musician?"

Daryl nodded and picked a piece of something off his shirt. "Mhm. I'd guess. No other reason to pack the bulky thing around." His voice had been low and the old man smiled.

"Maybe her and Beth can sing a tune or two together." Hershel yawned and his stomach growled. "Well unless you'd like me to look at you, I believe I'm going to get me some dinner. She'll be out for a while. Go get some rest before your shift eh?"

Daryl nodded, staying silent as the old man hobbled out on his makeshift prosthetic leg. He let his haze fall on the still pale girl. Clara huh? He thought as he made the decision that he'd keep his mouth shut. Her business. He'd tell Rick she checked out. If she wanted to be the rock star then so be it. He just hoped when people did find out she wouldn't be a brat. He wasn't a fan boy or anyone's bitch. Besides, she hardly looked like that girl on the magazine. She looked innocent asleep. She looked normal. This world changed folks. Changed her too, by the looks of things. He went to chew his nail again, catching himself. Her blood was dried and dark on his hands. Daryl decided to go wash up then sleep for a bit. It had been one hell of a day.

**Please comment and let me know what you think. Thank you for reading. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Please forgive the few typos I am sure some of you will notice. I have been up all night trying to figure this stuff out. Be patient please. Thank you. :)**

She was cold. So cold, in fact it woke her up. Her eyes slowly opened, feeling grainy as she wiped the sleep from them. Her muscles groaned as she winced. Clara's whole body felt as if she'd been dragged and beaten. Her memory of the previous excitable event was made real by the throbbing pain in her left thigh. She let out a gasp then bit her lip to muffle herself. Slowly her hands found the bandages in the darkness. She let out the breath she'd been holding.

Her arms then went out above her and she felt the cold bottom of what she could only guess to be a top bunk.

They had told her they'd fix her up… But still, it was dark and she couldn't see. Her heart was beating fast as the cold kept reminding her of how uncomfortable she was. Gradually she pulled herself up and managed to get on her feet. Another gasp left her as pain shot through her leg and she stumbled, catching herself and getting her balance. Her feet were bare and her left jean leg was cut off. Damn. As calmly as she could, she called to the darkness.

"Hello?" It left her mouth like a soft question. When she got nothing in response, she said it again…a little louder. This time her efforts were rewarded.

"Keep it down, don' wanna wake the dead." Then like in the movies the guy with blue eyes stepped out of the shadows. He looked calm and seemed to not be surprised to see her.

Clara was shaking from the pain hurling itself through her body. She blinked tears back and nodded, letting herself lean against the beds.

"Where am I?" She asked as he walked in with water and two pills. He held them out to her and she eye balled him.

The man rolled his eyes.

"It's pain killers. Our resident Doc told me to give em to ya when you woke up." He met her eyes and challenged her it felt like. Clara nodded and swallowed them down with nearly draining the bottle.

"You're in a prison we've made inta a home of sorts. It's safe compared to the places you've been m'sure."

That was when Clara decided, there was more to this country hick than meets the eyes…and that made him very dangerous. She shifted her weight and felt her muscle aching.

"Ya need ta sit." He reprimanded her.

She wanted to snap at him for principles sake but sighed and let him grab her elbow to help her lay back down. It was quiet except for her shifting around. The older man hung out against the wall, arms crossed and watching.

"Daryl, is it?" Her raspy voice asked, answered by a nod and him blinking.

"Yeah, and you are?" His question sounded casual. But she knew her name was a double blade sword. She wiped at her face and took a deep breath.

"Clara." Her hazel eyes met his and seemed to be thinking.

"Well I'm sorry bout your leg." It must have taken him a lot of will power to apologize so she decided to let it go.

"It's okay, but you better not do it again." She had to give him the faintest of smiles as he nodded and pulled a granola bar out of his front vest pocket.

"Found this in your bag. Figured your starvin." He gently tossed it to her and she gave him a quizzical look.

"You went through my stuff?" Her stomach sank and was ready for the 20 questions, but instead he gave her a gruff mhmm. She took it as a small blessing and decided not to make a big deal of it.

"Rick, our fearless leader, asked me to. We always do a lil investigatin' on people we bring in. Gotta keep ours safe." His words were even and calm, just speaking a truth. Clara couldn't be mad, it was smart.

"Don't blame you…" Her voice trailed off as a cramp went through her leg and settled around her wound. She visibly shook and closed her eyes. She hadn't had raw pain in a while. When it passed she exhaled and began opening her her granola bar. Clara felt him watching her. Her hackles rose, his gaze made her feel out of her comfort zone. Sure he'd helped with saving her life, but her instincts told her not to underestimate him. He was tall, lean muscle and tough was written all over him. So acting naturally, she wanted to be alone.

"Well thanks, but you gonna stand there and watch me eat?" Her body lied for her. She sat up straigher and set her face. When her eyes met his, he looked slightly put off. He bristled and gave a nod.

"Sure thing, need anythin' jus holler. Rick will be comin in before long." He shot her a pointed look before walking out, silent as if he'd never been there.

She mentally thought over her options. She would have to stick around long enough to get better. Her leg was busted. Quietly she examined her leg and felt horrified they'd cut her pants leg off. Well she had more clothes but damn! She sighed and sat herself up. She looked for her gun and machete, seeing neither of them. That really did upset her. She groaned and like Daryl had told her, in came a man. He looked friendlier than Daryl. His salt and pepper beard made him approachable by age but he was muscular and toned physic said he was a worker.

"Hello." He greeted with a friendly tone, but Clara could see past it. She sighed and nodded.

"Hi…so…I'm guessing you're Rick?" He scratched his beard and gave her a small smile.

"Yes ma'am. And you're Clara?" She nodded and stuck her hand out to shake.

"Yessir." He looked a little awkward now that she got a good look at him. He was tired. His eyes gave him away. Haunted. She could only guess what would bring a man to having eyes like his.

"How many walkers have you killed?" His question drew her out of her thoughts.

"Can't remember."

"How many humans?" He was still, as he watched her for any signs of a lie. She fidgeted with her bandages as she dropped her gaze.

"Four." She met his gaze and straightened up, trying to be strong in her sudden confession.

"Why?" Rick pushed. By the tone of his voice this was the biggie.

"Two tried to take me against my will. The third was a insecure woman who thought i wanted her man. And the last was a month ago. He was about to use a child to throw off some walkers. Crossed paths with a small group and seen it happen from where i was. I shot him in the gut and the others got away."

Clara kept her voice even and she shook off the chill that found its way down her spine. It was quiet for a few seconds and he looked around.

"You're welcome to stay. This isn't a fortress but we keep it as secure and as much of a home as we can. If you feel the need to leave you can. We all pull our weight." He relaxed and motioned to the cell. "We'll give you a bed. After you heal up we'll see where you could best help out. You've already started making friends…" The smile in his voice was infectious, she grinned sheepishly.

"Asshole shot me." Her soft face lit with mischievous amusement. Rick laughed and slowly started making his exit and he took a good look at her.

"He's a good guy. Rough around the edges, but trust worthy." His eyes lost focus for a moment and Clara patiently waited. When he continued, there was more conviction in his voice. "Daryl will grow on ya." He nodded his goodnight and left her wondering what the hell she'd gotten herself into.

**Thanks for reading and please lemme know what you think. **


	4. Chapter 4

The next few days weren't that eventful. Daryl hadn't seen Clara since he'd found her on her feet in pain. Hershel told him she was a tough cookie and refused pain killers, not wanting to use them all on herself…despite the fact they were hers. She'd take one a day. At night the whole cell block would hear her muffled gasps when the cramps would kick in.

The thought made him shiver. Everyone was buzzing about the new girl. Maggie and Glenn even brought her a few late blooming flowers as a welcoming gesture. Daryl knew Maggie had a soft spot for her after she'd found out what Clara had tried to do before Daryl interrupted her plan.

Rick even peeked in on her a few times to check up. It was weird seeing a new person so welcome right off hand. Sure nobody was throwin a party, but there wasn't any nervous tension surrounding the girl. Hershel had been good to keep him informed. Said she was 18. That had but hadn't surprised the hunter.

He'd also said more than likely she'd have some kind of permanent limp, but not to worry. With some physical activity she'd be back to her old self. That had made his guilt feel less heavy. And something told him Hershel had known it too. Damn old man was too good at reading people.

As his brain worked over these thoughts he found himself outside of Clara's cell. He could hear her labored breaths, obviously fighting off pain. His jaw tightened as he peered in and seen her in new clothes. Teeshirt, cotton shorts and knee high socks. Her face was damp with sweat and her skin flushed. Clara's eyes were screwed shut and she had an iron grip on the frame of the bunk. Daryl remained silent and watched.

Her hands were shaking as they undid themselves from the frame and wiped sweat off her forehead. She inhaled and let out a shaky breath before opening her eyes and looking straight ahead, slightly dazed.

"It's not nice to spy on people." She whispered, wiping more sweat off her face and neck.

He didn't let his surprise register on his face, just casually walked in and leaned against the wall. She looked small with the natural light coming in from the windows across the hall. He bristled, nobody here could ever hear him if he didn't wanna be heard. Maybe Rick on his good days. The mystery shroud around her was more ever present.

"I'd ask you how ya felt, but its obvious " He said with his usual gruffness. He set his crossbow down and leaned it too against the wall. She nodded and her voice broke.

"Ill be alright. Just gotta keep it from getting stiff. Being in here all the time don't help either."

He was quiet, knowing how nuts he'd go in her position. But she didn't stop there. "Hershel has Maggie help me back in forth to the bathroom. But he won't let me go outside. I'd forgive your trigger finger if you'd take me?" Her hazel eyes were watery, but hopeful. Daryl took a good look at her and decided a few minuets might be good for her. He picked his crossbow back up and slung in around his back. He grabbed her boots and set them beside her. Clara nodded and accepted his hand to help her stand. He listened as she hissed when she put weight on her left leg.

"Just try nota put…"

She cut him off. "Gotta use it. Don't wanna get weak."

It was simple and he understood. So in silence he held her arm just enough so she wouldn't topple over. When they got down the steps everyone had stopped talking. He rolled his eyes.

"What? Ain't yall seen anyone hobble 'fore? Yall see Hershel all the time!" He grunted a 'what i thought' after everyone shut up and went back to what they were doing. Clara gave him a glance of appreciation as they went on.

Daryl knew he shouldn't snap at people, but he felt like he was in school again. Made him irritable. When he pushed the steel door open and the sunlight hit her face, she winced. Immediately she took a deep breath and he felt the muscles in her arm relax.

"Air." She spoke as her lungs took it in. He watched her as she looked around, sizing the place up. The garden, drive way, towers and the fence…where Maggie, Glenn and Carl were currently putting down walkers. He waited for her to speak but she didn't. He guessed it must be alot to take in.

"I dunno how it's going to work out, but i'll get better and i'll pull my weight. Soon as i can take 5 steps without wanting to kill over I'm gonna get back to doing what i do." Her voice was firm but sincere. He gave her a side glance and readjusted his grip on her arm.

"And what's that?"

Clara scoffed then smiled, shielding her eyes from the high Georgia sun.

"You really think youre the only one who can hunt?" And with that she eased herself down and landed with an oomph on the grass.

Daryl furrowed his brows and looked to the fence.

"We'll see, lil miss thang…we'll see." And with that he left her to her thoughts before remembering something. "I'll have Maggie take you in here after while. Air out your lungs, girl." His back was to her but he could only imagine the look on her face. He allowed himself a chuckle. When he approached the fence he picked up a crow bar and started helping out. Carl looked up at him and back at Clara.

"How is she?" The teenage boy asked casually before going back to stabbing walkers in the head. Daryl thrust his crow bar through an eye socket and shrugged.

"S'alright. Just hurtin. Brought her outside to get some air."

Carl seemed happy with the answer he got. Maggie started talking about the next run and supplies needed. Daryl would nod and add his opinion, then he'd take a look towards the hill to see how Clara was doing.

The sun was punishing today. He stopped after a bit to get some water. Clara was soaking up the sun, she seemed as if she didn't have a hole through her leg. When he got to it, he asked Maggie if she could take Clara inside. She was too happy to oblige as she handed her knife to Glenn and left them to it. After the woman was gone, Carl got a goofy grin on his face.

"The new girl is pretty." The young teens face turned red and Glenn laughed, shoving the boy playfully. Daryl rolled his eyes but gave the boy a smile. Carl wasn't done though. "Well she is!" He defended himself and looked appalled by the other two. "Don't y'all agree? Or.." Daryl knew the kid was slightly panicked, not wanting to be the odd man out. Before Daryl could say anything, Glenn chose to speak up.

"Yeah Carl, she's pretty. Not Maggie pretty, but pretty. Pretty like out of your league." He jabbed at the boy again and Carl rolled his eyes.

"Hell I know that! Just sayin is all…" The boy turned to Daryl, "well?"

The older man stopped and gave him a look. "What?" The boy smiled and shoved him.

"You think she's pretty? You never talk about any of the women here. You're single." The boy looked genuinely interested. Daryl stopped jabbing at walkers when he realized the group of them were all dead for good. He sighed and only got more frustrated when Glenn was also waiting for his answer.

He shrugged and wiped his face off with the rag he had hanging out of his back pocket.

"Listen, I ain't got time to pay any mind to the women folk here. Merle was always the one who went chasin' tail. I got more things ta worry about than a pretty face." He took a breath and seen Maggie helping Clara up. When his eyes came back to the situation at hand, the two were grinning ear to ear.

Carl shook his head and motioned with his knife.

"So you do think she's pretty?" It would never make sense to Daryl how after he just said what he did, they were still on this. But after a second, and Glenn looking like he wanted to piss himself with curiosity..he groaned.

"I reckon. She ain't bad ta look at. But yall keep your mouths shut!" He glared but failed when Carl giggled and Glenn nodded, completely satisfied with the answer. Daryl groaned again and started walking towards the mess hall. He only made it worse by mumbling something along the lines of 'pansy ass gossip girls'.

Carol was minding some of the kids as he came in and found him a snack and a cup of cold coffee. He said his brief hellos and quickly downed the crackers and liquid. His mind was on Carl's question. He was a grown ass man, and the anxiety he had over that question was embarrassing. He had never been the lady killer. Merle had been a prick, but his head board was nearly none existant from all the notches. The first naked female he'd ever seen was caught coming out of his brothers bedroom when he'd came home after their parents were dead. He remembered stumbling over his feet and his tongue had been so tied he couldn't get a single word out. Merle had teased him, calling him names like Darlina and queer.

That had been when he was 16. At 17 he lost his virginity to a girl at a party Merle had drug him to. Sure Daryl had had his fair share, but he'd been sensible about it. Despite the dna, he had respect for women. Especially ones who's age ended in teen.

Merle told him he didn't see age so much as the package. Daryl gritted his teeth at the thought. They'd almost fought a few times at the girls Merle brought home or wherever they were staying. He'd never had an actual relationship that went past fuck buddies. Then when the world fell to shit, he focused on staying alive. Now he had to help keep others alive. He took his cup and put it in a bucket for dirty dishes, then decided to find Rick and talk about this run Maggie had mentioned needing to go on. He'd be all too happy to volunteer.

He was getting stir crazy. He didn't like having to think alot. He was a doer, not a thinker. Rick was a thinker. Daryl picked up the pace and found the man holding Judith as Beth got a bottle ready for her. He walked over to the man and let the baby grab his finger.

"Hey lil asskicker." The world always seemed to be off center when the callused and rough hunter was in the presence of the baby. Even Rick always felt at ease to see him interact with his daughter. Beth cleared her throat and motioned to take her.

"Its lunch time Judy-Bug." She cooed as Rick handed her over, looking sobered from the moments with his youngest.

"Bye baby." He said before he leaned in and kissed the baby's forehead, then kissed Beths forehead. "You're good with her, thank you."

It was not amiss to Daryl to see the platonic affection they shared. The Greens had pretty much adopted Rick and his kids. Rick seen Beth as a younger sister of sorts. The girl shrugged and patted the man on the back. The men walked away and Daryl started talking shop. Rick agreed to bring it up and he'd have Hershel and Carol put together some lists so they would know what to aim for. Before they went seperate ways Rick had the bright idea to suggest he see if there was anything Clara needed. Well shit.

**Please comment with thoughts :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Clara woke up and she knew today was going to be a good day, or so she hoped. For the past few weeks she'd been regaining her strength slowly and now she could get around without assistance. Her yawn made her shiver as she pulled on her black hoody over her tank and pj shorts. Barefooted, she slipped out and made her way to the bathroom. When her business was done she bumped into Beth and the teen boy Zach. They both shared shy smiles in her presence.

It was no secret the two were stealing kisses here and there. Clara winked as she walked past them. Beth had been making a point to bring the baby around and visit with her as she did chores she could sit down for. She helped Carol a lot with making dinner and washing clothes. Clara didn't mind, but she wasn't the domestic sort. Capable, just not bred for it she guessed. The 18 yr old sighed and found a protein bar to munch on.

She wanted to start getting back to her routine. Well, the routine she'd decided on to suit her life here. And honestly, she liked it here. These were good people, they left her alone when she wanted privacy and had open ears when she felt like chatting. The Greens were definitely her favorites so far. Maggie was funny and ironic, Beth was innocent and she had a heart of gold. Plus, Beth was her own little treasure.

The first time Clara heard her singing to Judith her heart stopped. The baby was being difficult and she was at a loss of what to do. Hershel told her to sing and sure enough, the lilting tones of the blondes voice all but muted the sleepy child. Within minuets the infant was gurgling with contentment then out like a light. When Beth had stopped, Clara blurted out "Please continue."

The few people who lingered had agreed and the teen blushed but continued. During this time Clara had noticed Daryls gaze intently on her. Like he was waiting for something. And that's when she knew for sure he knew about her past. But nobody had seemed to make any connections and that was fine with her. She didn't wanna be Clara Jax the rock star…she just wanted to be a survivor.

Her leg had healed fine, but because of muscle damage she limped. Hershel told her it would probably get better as she got stronger. She hoped so. The scars were awful though. They were dark and visibly stuck out against her creamy skin, not to mention the skin puckered with the damaged tissue. They were about as large as a 50 cent piece. Didnt hold her back from her shorts though.

Clara made her way to her new cell that was off on its own away from population. She didn't want people hearing her as she plucked at her guitar before she went to bed at night. She'd hung some purple sheets in front of the doorway for more privacy, courtesy of Maggie. Thank god for runs and her keen eyes. She usually tied them to the side during the day. But she left them closed while she slipped into her jeans and boots.

Clara stripped her tops, putting on a sports bra and her hoody again. She shook her blond hair out and braided it to the side. A few days ago her weapons were returned to her from Rick. So she strapped her machete to her hip and walked out after tying the sheets aside. She was assigning herself outside duties today.

The change would be welcome she thought. Quietly she hummed one of her old songs and rounded the corner. Everyone was getting busy so she would quickly wave and smile on her way out the door. Rick was in the garden and she was pretty sure Maggie was walking the perimeter with Michonne. The others were on the fence or fixing things.

She slowly let the morning air energize her as she came up to Rick. He looked up and gave her his signature nod. He was focused on making sure weeds didnt take over the new seedlings.

"Mornin'." He chirped and she watched him sit back on his knees.

"Morning. So, thought since i have been doing good…I'd do something outside today." Clara smiled and pushed the hair out if her face, eyes wondering to the gate. Ricks followed the stare and scrunched his face.

"Well, what you feel up to? Don't need to be over doing it first day out." His concern was well received as she sighed and knew he was right.

"I dunno. Maybe I could walk around a few times, stretch my legs and what not." Her voice was nonchalant but Rick eyed her.

"No funny business, now. Do your laps then if you wanna go up to the tower, have whoever is up there give you specifics." He sounded a little serious like he was formulating something mentally.

Clara saluted him playfully and started inching herself away. "Mkay Rick. Be back shortly." He grunted his goodbye and got back to the dirt.

A few hours later Clara was climbing her way slowly into the guard tower. She groaned as her muscles in her left thigh burned with the exertion. She was mad because of it. Before, this climb would have been cake. When she reached the top, her palms were sweaty and her knees shaking. She paused to take a breath before pulling herself onto the catwalk and opening the steel door.

It was about a 12 by 12 room surrounded with large windows, except for the metal door frame. Inside she found the hillbilly wonder. She was partially surprised to see him standing with a rifle in his arms and his crossbow laying across one of two chairs that sat behind him. It was odd seeing him with a fire arm. Daryl Dixon, she noticed, wasn't the type to jump into socializing a lot with the group.

He came and went out of meals and was always quick to volunteer for runs and patrolling the prison. He hunted a lot of mornings which is why she was kind of surprised to see him in here, rifle in hand. It looked alien on him. She had been told stories about him. He was the type to be more comfortable with silence. Guns were impersonal and too loud for the man.

Clara wanted to say something but found nothing to say. He'd made small talk with her on occasion when they would bump into each other going to the bathroom of something.

"So..Rick told me ta fill you in on watch duties." He broke the silent with his country accent. The young woman walked up a few feet from him and ran her fingers over her braid as she looked at the expanse of land. It was kinda pleasant minus the odds and ends of walkers. Daryl was looking out over the fields and woodline too. She focused on his face for a moment and caught herself from smiling.

Daryl wasn't an ugly guy. His age was evident in the small worry lines scattered across his face. His lips set in a state of lax, seemed to look forbidden in the sunlight. But what caught her was the sky blue eyes hidden beneath heavy eye lids and dark circles underneath. She noted the sparse grey hair in his goatee. The shaggy dark hair looked good on him, too.

"Somethin' botherin you?" Daryl's voice pulled her out of her mental diagnosis. She shook her head and pulled on the hems of her sleeves. "Well then, shits simple. Watch the fence and wood line.

If walkers start pilin' up then holler down at somebody. Don't shoot unless ya gotta." He paused and motioned towards the door.

"Always leave your exit clear…and.." He shut up when her hand raised.

"I know how to keep watch." She interrupted him quietly and continued to stare out. "I was with a few groups before we crossed paths. Learnt some stuff." She seen the look on his face and hoped he wasn't mad. He always looked mad most of the time. But Daryl surprised her and just shrugged.

"Good, less work for me." His voice said to her as if he was slightly bored with being here.

"Hunt this morning?" Clara asked trying to just make small talk. His shoulders relaxed and he slouched a little.

"Yeah, got some squirrels and a few coons. Wanted ta stock up for the next few days. Gotta run tomorrow." He didn't look the slightest concerned. Clara secretly envied his frequency with leaving the confinement of this place. Daryl wasn't hurt though which allowed him that luxery. He looked at her and then back outside. "Need anythin'?" He asked her, taking out a piece of paper and a pen.

She unfolded her arms and took her forehead off the glass. "Anything feminine hygiene. Some candles would be nice. Notebooks and pens. Perfume…" Her serious tone made him chuckle.

"Perfume?" His answer was Clara's glare and flushed cheeks. "M'kay, anything else princess?" His amused smirk made her want to push him through the glass.

"If you happen to stumble across another bow, preferably a compound double cam." Clara scratched her scalp and caught his subtle twitch. He'd wanted to say something. She kept on. "Doesn't have to be fancy but I'd like it to top off at 60 lbs. And carbon fiber arrows. But I'd need broad heads and a jig to fletch em…and a quick release..I'm sure you know all about it."

Her face flushed and she caught herself feeling stupid. She blinked and continued. "But if not then don't worry about it. More i talk about it the bigger a hassle it sounds like."

Then he scoffed.

"Yeah maybe, but if it meant you helpin out with the huntin…I'll make a special trip soon for hunting supplies." He sounded very sure of the idea and she looked at him. He was still looking out, but he seemed tense again.

Clara chewed the inside of her lip. "I think i could cobtribute best in that area."

He didn't say anything else, just nodded. When he did break the silence he looked more interested in being herein . "Who taught you ta hunt?"

Clara decided to open up a bit to the man. He was obviously trying to be friendly. "My dad. I'm from a small town in Texas. Katy. He used to take me to New Mexico and places to Mulie hunt. We'd go boar hunting occasionally. Mom wasn't for it. Dad passed a year before I started touring. Hadn't hunted since he died, then I didn't have a choice." Her voice was calm and he gave her a steady look.

She took a deep breath. "You know who I am don't you? Surely you didn't over look my guitar case." She knew he knew, just wanted to hear him say it. Daryl slowly nodded, chewing on his thumb nail. Her stomach twisted but Clara kept a straight face.

"Mmhm." He gave her a thoughtful look, then it was gone as quickly as it had came. His eyes shifted and he nodded towards the fence. Clara looked and knew what it was. The small crowd of walkers wasn't so small anymore. Daryl licked his lips and pointed to her machete.

"Go git Rick and a few others. Ill be down here in a few. Gonna have to thin em out some more." His voice wasn't harsh but she took it as a stern suggestion. Clara headed towards the door and walked out. When she found Rick he was already gathering Maggie, Glenn, Karen and Tyreese up to hit the fence. He acknowledged her and started walking. She hurried to fall in step and cursed her leg.

Her limp was evident but still she strode on. When they all split up in pairs she stayed with him. He didn't say anything as they started driving various weapons and pointy things through eye sockets and soft spots. The sounds were gruesome but it was necessary. After an hour the walkers were thinned out and Rick told Maggie to quickly assemble another crew to switch them out.

By now Clara was hardly able to stand, but she continued driving her machete forward between links in the fence. Sweat had her back and neckline soaked. Her palms were raw from switching back and forth. Rick tapped her on the shoulder and motioned up the hill.

"You too young lady, you are officially done."

She huffed up to protest until he gave her a look and she conceded. "Alright Sheriff, I'm going.." Her eyes found his and she gave him a smile. He returned it and watched after her as she limped back to the prison. When she found herself sitting on the cold metal steps, footsteps distracted her from her pain.

Maggie was being followed by various Woodbury folks and a few others. She was seeing them off to the fence. When they were outside she came back and gave Clara a look of exhaustion. The slightly older woman looked at her and handed her a cup of water she'd been nursing. Clara sighed with happiness and gulped it shamelessly.

"You over done it, huh?" Maggie asked with her hands on her hips. Clara shrugged and handed the cup back.

"Im insufferable. I'll pay for it come bed time."

Maggie snorted and rolled her eyes. "You already are. Well if you need anything find me or Dad." The brunette walked off towards the mess hall and Clara yawned. She was tired but she needed to shower. Slowly she pulled herself up and hobbled to her cell. She grabbed her shorts and a clean teeshirt.

She went to the showers and was pleased to find them empty. She put the cardboard sign on the door and left it cracked. Her leg was almost ready to fall off it felt like. She gritted her teeth as she bent over to peel the jeans off. Her hands shook as she unzipped the hoody and peeled her bra off. The water was only luke warm.

But it felt like heaven on her muscles. She let the water hit her face and she grabbed the community womens shampoo. Once she got her balance she lathered up and began scrubbing. Clara began softly humming some old tune that she knew forwards and backwards.

She kneaded her thighs in an attempt to alleviate some of the soreness. Nope.

Getting only frustrated she rinsed and toweled off. She stiffly got dressed and went straight back to her room, making a note to wash her clothes tomorrow. Her stomach groaned for food but she ignored it, exhaustion taking the front burner. She closed the sheets and collapsed on her bed. The prison was quiet and her eyelids sank shut. Within moments the 18 yr old was sound asleep.

****Please comment and let me know what you think. Thank you :) ****


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I own nothing.**

Daryl had watched her like a hawk as she limped behind Rick and the others. Her face was impassive but he knew she was in pain. She'd been in pain when she'd climbed the watch tower. He kept waiting for Clara to throw in the towel but she didn't. He admired that quality in her. Persistent.

He'd been about 20 yards down from her, busy with the other end of the group. He would sneak glances at her. By the time Rick dismissed her she had been sweating and not all of it from the heat. Her black hoody had been soaked. Unconsciously she had started favoring her left leg. Daryl had wanted to stop her before then but he didn't want to seem overly concerned about her.

He was still shaken up from their conversation in the tower. Sure it had been a normal conversation…but it was the context that had gotten him riled up. He was a solitary creature by nature. He appreciated the intimacy of killing his own meal and the satisfaction of knowing his efforts helped keep this large family alive. Nobody here knows that feeling, let alone has the knowledge of the technical know how required. But Clara does. And that had taken all his will power not to push her into a corner.

He'd exercised every self restraint mantra he could think of. Maybe it was the life he'd lived or the raw nature of it that had broken him…but he'd never met a woman like her. Hell he'd never wanted to just take control of a woman before. That scared him. He had loved his brother, but he sure as hell wasn't a role model.

Sure Carol and Michonne were tough..Maggie too, hell even Beth. But it wasn't the same strength that resonated within the blonde. She wasn't just a wounded rock star brat…she was self sufficient . Her presence was soft but he'd seen her fight. He'd seen how animals recognize other animals. They can smell it. Predators know the weak, their equal and when they have met something they can't beat. Laws of nature and shit.

Clara was an animal. She had stalked then challenged those walkers. Thrusting her machete, hacking with a ferocity he'd seen few possess. Her demeanor something out of a horror movie. It had been one of the hottest things he'd ever seen. Then he shot her. He thought of her then too. Horrified and scared to look, the soft parts of her coming to surface. She was complex and not cruel like he could be. She wasnt like him at all actually.

Daryl groaned with the thoughts in his head and pushed it all down. Despite what he'd enjoy doing, he kept his shit together. She was still a woman and he wasn't some savage bastard. They couldn't afford him getting distracted. His eyes then watched her walk in. When the other group relieved them he went in, going to get some dinner.

Rick had stopped to share a few words. Carol too, but he just nodded and kept replies simple. So they were heading out in the morning. Himself, Glenn and the new guy Bob. So he filled up on squirrel and pan bread before he decided to think about how he was going to go about getting Clara a bow.

He knew there was a few in the sports shop where he'd gotten some bolts for his crossbow. On his bike it was a 40 minuet ride. But he'd need a vehicle. There was plenty to get and it would help to have someone looking out while he looked and grabbed things she'd need. He went to his cell, took out the piece of paper he'd wrote things down on earlier and flipped it over.

His writing was chicken scratch but he knew what it said. He'd made a list of everything. From string to a peep sight, whisker biscuit and stabilizer bar. Maybe if they had time tomorrow he'd have them make a pit stop. He needed a new grinding stone anyhow…

"Daryl." The calm male voice made him jump a bit. When he turned around Glenn was in the doorway. He had a shit eating grin knowing he'd got the drop on him.

"What? Jesus Korean you scared the shit outta me." Quickly he put the list in his pocket and Glenn chuckled.

"Sorry. I was just wondering…did we make you mad earlier? I know you're not a big sharer but…you are the last person I want upset at me." He was serious. Glenns dark almond eyes were wide as Daryl smirked.

"You'd know by now if I was really mad."

Glenn gulped but calmed down. Quickly he went back to normal and Daryl scratched his hand. "We're gonna make a pit stop tomorrow. Gotta get some huntin stuff…" He paused and gave Glenn a chance to respond.

"Okay. Should we take a few extra bags?" He looked around Daryls room and shivered when he seen his toy collection. How could he need anything else?

"Yeah. Gonna get Clara on 'er feet. She wants ta help with huntin. Seems to know enough." Daryl wanted to elaborate but the hint of amusement on the Koreans face convinced him otherwise. He made a warning noise deep in his throat and the younger man promptly left.

Alone once again, Daryl decided he would shower and get to bed. Had an early start tomorrow. He was anxious to leave and get back. That girl had a lot of work ahead of her and he was going to make sure she was just as good as him…or better. He grabbed up his other jeans and a black teeshirt. On his way to the shower he passed under the catwalk in front of Clara's cell.

He couldn't hear anything from inside so he assumed her to be asleep. When he got to the shower, Carol had just been wrapping up. She emerged, hair still wet and her night clothes on. She smiled and nodded as she went on her way. Daryl watched her leave for a moment. He'd had to distance himself from her a little the past few months.

Though she was only a few years older than him, he wasn't attracted to her the same way she'd admitted she was to him. It had only made it awkward for a week or so until it all went back to normal. Daryl still felt bad about it. Carol deserved a nurturing type, he wasn't.

As the water hit him in the face, he blew out a breath and started scrubbing off walker blood and all the other bits. The exhaustion hit him as his muscles started to relax and he rinsed the day off. It had to be close to midnight. The man wrapped it up and dried off. He pulled a plain black sleeveless shirt on and clean jeans. His feet remained barefoot as he padded his way back to his cell.

His ears heard the gurgling of the baby and Beth softly singing to her. He quietly went into his cell and eased himself onto his bed after chucking the dirty clothes in the corner. He let the air leave his lungs, feeling his bones settle and within minuets…Daryl was asleep.

**Please comment if you enjoyed. :)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Shortly after the sun had rose, the prison started bustling around. Beth with baby in hand went to wake Clara up but Hershel stopped her. He told his youngest that Clara needed rest from what Rick had told him. She nodded and decided she would save a bowl of oats for her anyways.

Few hours went by and when Clara did wake, she let out a god awful groan. Her leg was crying out treason against her as she tried to get up, only to slump back down and roll onto her side. Her hazel eyes shut as she sighed and slung her arm over her face. It was fairly dark in her cell. As if she'd called out, there was a tap on the iron bars behind the sheets.

"Clara?"

She lazily let out a muffled "yeah?" She mover her head to where she was peeking out from beneath her arm. Hershel came in and slid the sheets over to where light lit her up. He gave her a friendly smile and sat down in the chair across from her.

"I heard a noise and figured it was either a walker or you had just woken up." The amusement in his voice was contagious. Clara had to chuckle.

"Yeah, I feel horrible. My leg seems to have left me worse for wear today Doc." Her voice was serious as he leaned forward and motioned for her to sit up.

Clara pushed the cover off of her and winced as she quickly realized it wasn't just her leg that was sore. Her shoulders and sides were too.

"My guess is you must have put your body through the ringer yesterday. Bethy came to wake you this morning but I told her to let you sleep." His hand gently motioned to her leg and she grunted as he pressed and moved it around. "Yep. Muscles are taught."

He took out a canteen of water and a few pills. "A pain killer and one of the anti inflammatories I have in my arsenal. Stay inside today please. Move around but don't exert yourself." He watched as she took the pills and even stuck out her tongue to show him. Hershel smiled at her and patted her hand.

"You remind me of my girls. Tough as nails but sweet as sugar." The compliment took Clara by surprise as she felt her chest tighten.

"You remind me of my Dad." Her eyes averted from his momentarily and she felt him squeeze her hand. "He was a good man. Served in the Army for a few years. Got out, met mom and settled down. They had me. Opened up a construction business with his brother." She took a breath and Hershel nodded for her to continue.

"His name was Sebastian. When I got old enough he would take me hunting and fishing. Made sure I had piano lessons. When I diverted to the guitar he supported me. He always made time for me, even when Mom..Leslie, went bat shit crazy."

The old man gave her a look and Clara smiled ruefully. "Mom was manic depressive since he'd been diagnosed with Cancer. She kinda just self imploded. Dad had Prostate Cancer. She would take too many pills and cry all the time. She would just forget about me."

Clara's eyes weren't really focused on anything but it felt good opening up to someone. "I had gotten home from school one day and Dad was waiting for me on the front steps. He said we were going to a cabin we had close to the shore. I had raced upstairs and packed a bag for the weekend.

We had a blast. We got ice cream and fished off the shore. At night we'd build a fire and Id sing and he'd pitch in…."

It was quiet for a moment as she wiped the tears off her cheeks. She blinked and smiled at Hershel. Her cheeks flushed and her voice broke.

"Dad was kind. Even at the end he made sure he was the best Dad he could be. I have never had anyone love me the way he did. His eyes were always knowing and his hugs reassured me." She awkwardly laughed and wiped some more. "You have the same look in your eyes sometimes. You love Beth and Maggie so much. Just hits home. Makes me miss him so much."

Hershel felt his eyes slightly water but he pulled the girl in for a hug. "Well, he did a good job. You're a wonderful young woman and that's all we ever pray for being fathers. Daughters who are smart and strong. I'm sure he's proud. I would be." He squeezed her and let her go, feeling her tension ease.

"Thanks Hershel." Clara mumbled out and straightened herself out. He rose after giving her a pat on the cheek and hobbled out. Her mind thought over their conversation and she sighed. Yes, she dearly missed her Daddy. But she was grateful he didn't have to suffer this world as they did.

Clara hadn't bothered changing out of her shorts. She just slipped on a bra and a tight teeshirt. Her bare feet brought her slowly to the laundry room as Carol and Beth greeted her happily. Beth pulled a chair up and handed her a bar of soap.

"Morning." She said as she plunged her arms into the water and began scrubbing the jeans in her hands. Beth nodded and motioned to her leg.

"You okay? Was gonna bring you breakfast but Dad intercepted me."

Clara shrugged and plunged again. "Been better but been a hell of a lot worse too." She gave Beth a genuine smile and began ringing out the jeans.

"Your Dads a great guy. Easy to talk to."

Beth nodded and gleamed with that Daddies girl pride.

Hours slipped by and after everyones clothes, including her own, were washed and dry. She carefully handled the clothes Carol loaded her down with. Clara began dropping them off by cell. First it was Tyreese's, Hershel's, then Daryl's. Like the others she neatly placed them on his bed.

It had been made. Her brows slightly came together at the sight. Daryl didn't look the type to make his bed before he started his day. She found herself looking at the rest of the neat cell. Sure it wasn't spotless but she could see him here. Her eyes trailed over the makeshift weapons rack and his organized cleaning stuff.

Gun oil, rags, brushes, string wax and other essentials to keeping his weapons maintained. He had a few other odds and ends laying around. Clara closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled. Faintly the muskiness and the smell of leather tickled her nose. Daryl was much deeper than an accent and his crossbow.

Her eyes opened and she looked around one last time before she dropped her clothes off at her room. Her mind kept circling back to the older man. He had to be no more than maybe 33? Daryl could also just look older or he could be the opposite. She didn't know anything about him other than what was obvious.

And since when was that important? She huffed and cleared her head. Doesn't matter. It never did any good to think on these things. He was a man. He was older. And…he made her twitch. She'd been around the world and met men who were celebrities…sex dripping off them in rivers…but none of them were like him. He made her itch.

She remembered that octave in his voice when they had met. Clara's inner self had wanted to fight him, but something made her buckle. Even now her skin broke out in goose bumps. Alright, that's enough! She growled and got her shit together. She took a few minuets and grabbed her guitar. She slipped her boots on and went outside to join Beth and the baby.

When the younger blonde seen the guitar her eyes lit up and she made Judith clap. "Yay! Clara's gonna sing for us!" Beth's baby voice made Clara snort but she maneuvered herself onto the grass in front of them.

She decided on one of her favorite songs. It was soft and she figured the baby would take to the melody. Clara placed her fingers and slowly began strumming. Beth watched her intently and smiled when she recognized the tune. Clara nodded for her to start.

"_I am outside…_

_and I've been waiting for the sun, _

_with my wide eyes.._

_I've seen worlds that don't belong…_

_my mouth is dry with words i cannot verbalize…_

_tell me why we live like this?_

_Keep me safe inside..your arms like towers tower over me.._"

Beth kept her voice in tune with the guitar and Clara smiled, telling her she was doing good…then she took over.

_"Cause we are broken! _

_What must we do to restore_

_Our innocence and all the promise we adored? _

_Give us life again…cause we just wanna be whole…_

_Lock the doors cause id like to capture this voice.._

_It came to me tonight, so everyone will have a choice…and under red lights.._

_Ill show myself it wasn't forged..we're at war…we live like this.._"

When Clara opened her eyes to signal Beth to continue, the younger girl sputtered and her voice cracked. But after a second she picked up the chorus and Clara sang with her, enjoying the companionship of their voices sounding so lovely together. After they wrapped it up, Beth sat there open mouthed and snuggling Judith who was quiet too.

"Oh my god! You're THE Clara!" The blonde was blushing furiously and giddy. She palmed her forehead and then just started laughing as Clara giggled and let her have a moment. "I just sang with one of my favorite artists! Holy bejeezus!" Clara sighed and tapped her guitar.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. But please, I'm just Clara. I'm nobody these days so just treat me the same, please?" She was nervous because she truly enjoyed being a normal post apocalyptic gal. To her relief Beth nodded and calmed a little.

"Okay. But I hope you'll sing for everyone sometime." She had hope in her eyes and Clara groaned.

"Only if you sing with me." She gave the other blonde a sneaky look and she all too happily obliged. After the mood settled and they sang a few more, Clara realized how late it was getting.

"Think they'll be back soon?" Her question was something that Beth had also found herself wondering throughout the day. Usually on runs they were back by 5 or so, it was getting dark now.

Beth shuffled the baby in her arms and kissed the top of her head. "Hope so. Hard to tell. Always worry when they go out. Maggie always keeps herself busy while Glenn's gone…" Her voice trailed off and right on que, Judith began crying. "Time for her bottle. Dinner should be soon anyways.."

Clara picked her guitar up and followed them inside. People eyed her with the guitar in hand. She dropped it off to her room and returned down stairs. Dinner was shortly done and she was grateful to eat. When everyone was done she helped with dishes and made her way back outside.

She wrapped her arms around herself and was not surprised to see Rick looking towards the gate. Worry was etched all over his face. Clara stood beside him and nudged him with her shoulder. "Penny for your thoughts…"

He eased up a little and put his hands on his hips. "They should have been back by now."

Clara nodded and tried to be positive. "I'm worried too but, don't think the worst. Probably got held up. Daryl seems like a hard bastard to kill." Her mouth drew tight but the corner settled slightly into a smirk. Finally Rick nodded and exhaled.

"You're probably right. Need to relax. Those guys know what they are doin." Once his eyes met hers, she knew he would more than likely be up all night. He nudged her shoulder with his and walked towards the tower in front of the prison.

Clara was worried about them. But she focused on her feet as she went to her cell and settled in. Her leg was sore still, but a lot more tolerant. The short dirty blond pulled her sheets closed and reluctantly went to bed. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, she drifted off.

****Song is We Are Broken by Paramore*****


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Morning was a blessing as the three men assembled back to the SUV. They had holed up above a bar over night. They had spent all day getting supplies and what they could find. Daryl let Glenn drive as he took mental inventory of what they had grabbed.

They had went 2 hours out from the prison. Great news was, they for once got almost everything they needed…bad news…a herd had came through and forced them to hole up. They'd grabbed canned food, hygiene products, clothes, medicine, and the strange odds and ends. But that wasn't the reason he felt accomplished.

It was the big black hard case behind his seat. He'd found a bow with the right specs. Sure he hadn't found all the things she would want, but he had the necessities. Arrows, vanes, fletching jig, glue, field tips..Daryl was actually proud. He found himself anxious to give it to Clara.

Glenn had kept asking about it but Daryl just shut him up with a look. Didn't matter he told him. Bob was pretty quiet. Helped pick out medicine and supplies. But he wasn't a fun guy. Man had jumped at every little noise. Kind of annoying after a while. Daryl watched the sun come up as the SUV sped down the road. He felt his back pack and zipped the front pocket open enough to make sure it's contents were still intact.

He wanted to punch himself. He'd grabbed damn perfume for her too, as if a bow hadn't been enough. Course he didn't let them see him. But after he'd sniffed a few of them, he settled for this one. It was some kind of light pink tinted, vanilla cherry blossom mixture. He liked the way it lingered in the air but wasn't too pungent. The bottle was glass and decorative.

Daryl yawned and watched as they sped by trees and the occasional walker. They had about an hour and a half to go. He thought about kicking back and getting a nap. As if Glenn had read his mind he spoke up.

"Go to sleep."

Daryl sighed and leaned his head against the window. "Good idea." He mumbled and closed his eyes, quickly slipping off. When the SUV was a mile out, Glenn woke him and Bob up. Daryl rubbed his eyes and stretched. Before he was fully aware they were pulling in. That anxiety settled back into his belly as he opened his door and helped the other two unload.

Only Rick and Maggie greeted them. Which was perfectly alright. Daryl said quick hellos and was happy to know everything had went smoothly while they were gone. Carol and Maggie made sure to get everything sorted once it was brought in. People would sheepishly come to claim what they needed. He noticed one certain gal wasn't present. Daryl hoisted the back pack onto his shoulder and carried the bow case up to his cell.

He noticed his clothes and scooted them over to give room for everything else. Quietly he took out the bow and studied it. It was light, bare and ready to set up. He'd grabbed some allen wrenches to dial the weight down on the pull so Clara wouldn't throw her shoulder trying to pull back 60 lbs. Maybe she could build up to it but he knew she couldn't now.

Carefully he installed the three pin sights and whisker biscuit. For everything else he'd have to add to her specifications. So after catching his breath in a moment of peace, he left the stuff in his cell and went looking for her. He wasn't totally surprised to find her helping Carol with mopping the floor. She was smiling about something.

Daryl stopped before he could be seen by either. Carol whispered something and Clara burst out laughing and had to cover her face before she started talking. Now Carol was blushing and laughing too. Daryl hadn't seen the young woman this animated since she'd fought the walkers. His chest squeezed with how beautiful she looked smiling like that.

He purposely ignored her short denim shorts and tank top. Her hair was piled up in a messy bun and her boots looked stark against her outfit. Daryl knocked on the wall and gave the ladies a smile. "Interrupt'n anythin?" He asked and Carol snorted.

"Just girl talk. So how'd the run go?" Her eyes didn't hide the fact she was grateful to see him alive. Clara even gave him a small smile.

Daryl shrugged and pulled a piece of jerky out of his pocket. "Real good. Got nearly everythin' we set out for, and a lil' more…" He grinned and motioned to Clara. "Mind if I steal her for a minuet?"

Carol's happy expression shifted for just a moment before she smiled and motioned to the floor. "Sure thing. Bout done anyways."

Clara gave a warm smile to the older woman and set her mop in the bucket before she made her way to Daryl. He chewed his jerky and shifted on his feet. "C'mon girl." Without further due he started walking back towards his cell. The whole way he listened to the sound of her footsteps. Right one heavier than the left because it was working more to support her weight.

She was quiet until they rounded the corner and nearly bumped into him. He turned and gave her an odd look. She huffed up. "Well what do you expect when you suddenly stop?" Her voice didn't hide her amusement. Daryl rolled his eyes and pointed to his bed.

Now there hasn't been many times where he's felt much accomplished. But the look on her face reminded him of Christmas. Not that he'd had many to enjoy, but Clara's face defined it. Her hazel eyes went wide and her mouth gaped open. He could see her fighting herself. But something told him to play it cool.

"Got most of what ya need…only found 2 dozen arrow shafts so you'll need to be careful with em.." Daryl kept his voice even and placed the bow into her hands. She was inspecting all the little details with scrutiny. He had done the same thing. After going over the bow, she smiled.

"It's perfect. I can't thank you enough.."

He popped another piece of jerky in his mouth. "Yeah ya can, help with bringin' home the bacon…or squirrel." Though he was completely serious she giggled.

"Yes sir. We gotta get this taken care of tonight. I wanna be shooting in the morning." The determination in her voice kindled that feeling of knowing he'd have something to look forward to. So the next few hours they busied themselves with cutting arrows, fletching, placing her peep sight and lining everything up. More than once they had friendly debates about which was better, crossbow or compound bow?

Daryl had rolled his eyes and stated his points, only to have Clara state her own. He quickly knew he wouldn't win. Which was infuriating and amusing. Sure other people had learned the ways of the woods, but they had to be taught. Clara already knew. She would become a valuable asset once she shook the rust off.

Soon Maggie came and drug her away, wanting some time with her while they made dinner. Daryl hadn't missed the subtle pout Clara had as she cast a longing glance towards her new toy. She had many sides. Some which he'd only glanced briefly. So far, they weren't what you'd call bad.

When he'd finished up inserting the arrows and making sure they were still drying properly in the metal jig, he slipped out and made a stop to Clara's room. It was more lived in now. A few books on the small desk, knife sharpening kit, a notebook and some pens.

Quickly he pulled the bottle of perfume out of his pocket and set it there. The action made him feel awkward. He stared at the pink bottle. She would no doubt know it had been him. Maybe she wouldn't say anything. Maybe she would. He just scratched his jaw and walked out.

It was just a friendly gesture. Nothing more, but he wasn't the type of guy to give without a reason. Well not always. He's given things to Carol because he cared about her, but Carol is Carol. There was history there. She was trusted to him. Family.

Clara was new, young, beautiful and dangerous. Her danger didn't lie soley against walkers. She was dangerous in normal day to day. He felt self conscious around her. Like he had to be aware of her as not just the smaller bodied human, but a gravitational being he had to force himself away from.

Worst part was, she didn't know it.

Daryl drew himself back out of his head and made his way to dinner. He hung back and ate standing. Clara was sitting with Hershel and Beth, chatting away and obviously oblivious to his observations. He looked down at his bowl, took a bite and then looked up. Daryl nearly choked.

Her eyes were trained on him. Her smile was only momentary as she nodded in acknowledgement. He gave her a small nod in return. When he'd finished eating he walked past them and Clara stopped him.

"In the morning…?" Her eyes swiveled upwards, question swimming in her hazel specks.

"Yeah, I'll have someone come'n wake ya up. Gonna get some shut eye. You rest up, we're gonna be puttin you through yer paces tomorrow." He gave her a serious look, one that had made the Woodbury folks worry, she just looked excited.

With that being said he walked away and up to his cell for a fitful nights sleep. Damnit. Why now? He thought as he kicked off his boots and thought about his dead brother and what he'd have to say on the subject. But it was a good thing he wasn't around, one look at Clara and Merle would have been done in.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Morning came early as loud banging woke her up. Clara wanted to scream at the menace that roused her from a deep comfortable darkness. But it was Tyreese going to bed after his watch. He looked exhausted as he peeked in, making sure she was awake.

"Hey girl, Daryl wanted me to make sure your outside in a few." The black man looked exhausted and funny between her purple sheets.

Clara nodded and before he could duck out she called to him. "Purples your color…" She heard him chuckle as he walked away. Her body felt good today. When her feet hit the cement floor she hissed. Cold! She changed into her black jeans and some old teeshirt that had a few holes towards the bottom seam.

Clara pulled her hair back and hopped into her boots. She was about to head to the bathroom when the pink bottle caught her eye. She had found it here last night when she came to bed. Her face scrunched up as she un capped it. She spritzed some on her neck and set it back down.

It smelled amazing. She found herself grinning before she got herself in gear. Bathroom time. As she did her business she thought about how Daryl must have looked grabbing a bottle of perfume. She would almost bet anything he had hidden it and cussed her. Daryl Dixon wasn't fooling her.

But he was. She almost couldn't believe he'd got her a bow. Sure he was practically helping himself, but he had a look about what he said. But right now wasn't the time to ponder things like this. Quickly, she decided to go look for Daryl. She wasn't worried about being late, she just wanted to shoot her bow.

Clara found him dragging a dead, well double dead, walker up the dirt drive way. She was about to ask until he stopped about twenty yards from her.

"Ya gonna gawk at me Princess or are you gonna help?"

Clara frowned and ran to him, grabbing the other arm. They hauled it to a wooden post that was freshly stuck in the ground. What was this?

"What's going on?" She asked as she helped brace the body up so he could tie it up under the arms and around the hips. Thankfully the walker had been a skinny man.

"Well be kinda hard to sight a bow in jus' shootin' air." When he stepped behind her to check his knot, he froze momentarily. She only noticed because he almost had her pinned between decaying flesh and himself. She seen his arms out of the corners of her eyes tense before falling away. He quickly stepped back.

He looked on edge. Clara knew he was a difficult guy. No matter now you cut it, there was always another layer. So she let that itchy feeling in the back of her throat subside and pushed through it.

He walked uphill and grabbed the bow case off the table. She watched him carefully. He didn't have his crossbow. Just a side arm and his knife. His eyes were carefully turned down and he seemed to be calculating each step. When he got to her he crouched down and flipped the case open.

"Alright, time ta shake the dust off." Daryl handed the bow up to her. She noticed he had taken time to fashion her quiver to a thigh holster. She tied it on and seen the 6 arrows fletched and waiting.

"It's set at 45. Let off's 'least 60 percent. Here put this on.." He handed her a quick release. She handed him her bow so she could put it on her right hand. Then it occurred to her, how'd he know she shot righty?

"How'd you know I was a righty?" Her voice was calm and he shrugged as he made sure she had everything.

"Not hard ta figure out if ya pay attention ta people." His words almost sounded condescending. She bit the inside of her cheek. "Now get on with it."

Clara felt her chest squeeze as he fell back a few paces and watched her. She walked to her 'target' and turned back around. Carefully she counted twenty paces that roughly equated to 20 yards. She ignored the flick of his lighter as he lit a cigarette. Her hand was slightly shaky as the excitement got to her.

She grabbed an arrow and carefully placed it through the whisker biscuit. When she had the knock against the waxed string, she locked her quick release on the loop. Clara turned herself to the side and inhaled as she drew the bow back. Smooth. She smiled.

The sights were easy to find through her peep and after a few seconds she let it go. The familiar whisp sounded low and the arrow his the walker an inch above his belly button. She lowered the bow and turned towards Daryl, who didn't seem surprised.

"Got an allen wrench?" She asked as he tossed her his multi tool. With quick work she adjusted her top pin. Clara slid the tool into her back pocket as she repositioned. Her aim was for his throat. And as the next two hours passed, this happened over and over again. Then finally, she had the bow dialed in for 20, 30 and 40 yards.

The two hadn't spoke much but she was okay with it. He seemed to be in a foul mood and she didn't wanna push his buttons. So after she knew there was nothing more to be done, she just started packing things up. Clara knew she'd be out in the woods in a week tops.

Her arm hated her though. She'd forgotten about keeping her left arm bent out slightly and when she'd released, the string had snapped back…leaving a wide trailing bruise down her forearm. It wasn't anything that hadn't happened before. She hadn't even flinched. But it was stinging as her skin started turning various shades of blue and purple.

So when she got the bow case shut with all the goodies inside, she tossed the multi tool back to Daryl. "Thanks again for this. Come next week I'll be out there."

Daryl stood from where he had sat on the grass an hour ago and dusted his jeans. "Yep. Ya did good." His compliment made her give him a small smile. She went to pick up the case and she seen him shake his head.

"What?" She asked but he threw his hands up and motioned to her arm.

"That's another reason why crossbows are better'n compounds, yer not messin yourself up try'n ta shoot em." His comment made her roll her eyes but she had to share in the humor.

"Well, a little pain don't hurt. Crossbows are for pussies." And with that she hoisted the case up and cast a parting grin to the older man. He made a sound and let her leave having the last word. When she got inside, Glenn and Maggie gave her the thumbs up. She hadn't even been aware she'd had spectators. Clara smiled and took the bow upstairs to her cell.

When it was squared away she made her way to see the Greenes and the others. Lunch was just getting served so she made sure she got a bite to eat. Daryl came in a little while after she did. She watched as he got his plate and let Carol pull him into a conversation.

Clara was fascinated with watching him interact with the group. His mannerisms were different with each individual. He wasn't as guarded around Carol. His shoulders relaxed and his smile reached his eyes. They trust each other. To Clara it was obvious a mile off how Carol felt towards Daryl..but now she seen it in him too.

The realization kind of made her stomach flop. She looked down at her last bite and decided to relax. She didn't have time to worry about some guy. He was too old for her anyways. So Clara let the thought go and started engaging Beth into a conversation about how well it had went outside.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

"Just head up that ridge an' hang a left. You'll see a stand I built a while back. Stay there for now." Daryl motioned towards the direction he was talking about. "I'm gonna walk around and try to jump somethin your way. Be ready once ya get up there."

He watched as the woman nodded and quietly stepped through the leaves towards the direction he'd given her. Daryl gave her a while to get to the stand and started making his way down the hill to work his way up. Clara had really impressed him with her bow. Hell he'd figured she'd be a lil hellian with it, but he'd had no idea how it was practically second nature for her.

She could have went professional. Gotten her a sponsor, traveled…but he reckoned her music took her where she'd wanted to go. The man had made sure not to give her a big head, but everyone had done it. Clara always drew a crowd. He was starting to think there wasn't much she couldn't do.

Daryl snapped back into the present when a fat gray squirrel tried getting away from him. With out a hitch he had it shot and put into is pouch without missing a step. More than likely he wouldn't jump anything but a walker or two, but he hoped to chase something her way.

And that's how the morning went. He circled and drove anything he could towards her direction. Around 10 am he was 4 squirrels heavier with a fat possum. Relatively satisfied he stood up a little straighter as the stand came into view. Then his stomach dropped, where was Clara?

"Clara?" He yelled out, slinging his crossbow around his back so he could climb the ladder and check the deer stand. Nothing. Daryl gritted his teeth as he hopped down and began searching the ground for any clues. She'd walked off, nothing indicating stress or injury. The prints led into a thicket and without hesitation he went in after her.

He wouldn't let fear seize him up so he pushed forward. "CLARA!" He yelled, pushing branches and thorns aside. After a few minuets he called for her again until her head popped up from behind a large pine tree. She looked frustrated.

"Shh!" She hissed at him. Daryl eyed her and wanted to ring her damn neck…and…he felt so grateful to find her alive. His chest squeezed and he took in a shuddered breath.

"Bitch! Are you crazy? You had me worried tha youd already went an got yourself eaten or somethin!" His insult made her shake her head until she smiled and pointed at her pouch. Least 6 squirrel.

"Got a few squirrels then I heard this fat bastard strutting around." Clara smiled proudly as she moved out of the way and his eyes landed on the big jake turkey laying on the ground. Her hazel eyes were bright and big, unable to allow him to be pissed at her. Mad, hell yes…but not furious.

Daryl caved as the tension drifted away and he bent down to examine it. "Good size. We can re use the feathers." His voice was softer than moments before. "But from now on you be where I tell ya ta be. Too old to be trackin' you limpy ass through these damn woods."

Clara rolled her eyes but nodded and shoulder bumped him. Something he'd noticed she would do when she'd upset him or look for his approval. "Sorry." It was simple and he knew she meant it. Without another word he bent down and grabbed the turkey by its feet and slung it over shoulder.

The walk was quiet and Clara managed to take down a few walkers that had smelt the dead animals and stumbled into their path. When they snuck back into the fence they took the critters behind the pig pen. He strung the bird up and began gutting and plucking.

Clara got busy on the squirrels. He watched her with fascination as she took the squirrel by the middle and cut a small hole across the middle of the back. With bare hands she dug both index fingers in and pulled until she had a firm grip on both sides. With little effort ashe pulled the skin back and revealed the muscular structure of the tiny animal.

Her small hands then snapped the four thin legs into, cutting them in such a way that the feet came away with the hide. A normal person would find the actions heartless and cold, especially how lightly Clara did these things. But not Daryl. The past week has been hell on him

Hearing her speak, seeing her practice, seeing her fight and now…the sight of her processing the squirrel just made him ravenously crazy. She was a walking oxymoron. Contradiction. Beautiful and just dangerous. Her age even turned him on he'd realized a few days ago. But he did nothing on these notions.

Daryl found out in the past while it's okay to care for people. To make them family, especially since Merle died…but to love someone romantically? That was suicide. Rick and Lori were prime examples. Shane. Andrea. One of two end up dead leaving the other to lose their damn mind.

"What's up?"

Clara's smooth voice pulled him back and he shrugged, almost grunting in frustration realizing he'd stopped plucking.

"Nothin'. Just thinkin's all." He cast his eyes towards the bird and was happy when she didn't pry. With all the time they have been spending together, she knew how to read him a little better…and vice versa.

After every animal was skinned, cleaned and ready to be dealt with the young woman yawned. He forgot she'd volunteered her services to Beth in the evenings. Teaching the girl guitar and singing stuff. Mornings were their time.

"We'll get this ta Carol an the others then ya can get to Beth. I'll clean up our stuff and make sure to get your bow to your room." His offer left her with a smile as she nodded and bumped him, walking ahead to get to her other commitments.

The man watched her drop the meat off to a pleased Carol and scurry off. When he got to his friend she huffed up and patted him on the back.

"Nice bird. Make for some fine food." She carefully took the naked bird and set it down in a empty pot, then filling it with water. Daryl sighed and plopped down on the stool across from the food prep area.

"Yeah, Clara got it. Shot it right through the neck." The slight wonder in his voice made Carol shoot him a serious look as she did the same with the squirrel quarters, adding generous amounts of salt.

"Seems like y'all got a good thing going on." She gave him a short smile and focused on the two pots, trying to decide what to do with the bounty of meat.

"It's a smart move. She's a natural. Damn shame not ta let her help out…" Something told him this feeling he had wasn't because Carol was happy he'd found a hunting buddy. She was being oddly distant, again. Which meant only one thing…she was dealing with emotional stuff. That was foreign territory for the man.

But because he did care about Carol, he came out with it. "Somethin ya wanna say, Carol?" His voice was a little harsher than what he'd intended but oh well.

"Nope. Just don't think she's ya know…" She glanced back at him then went back to the way she was. "Clara's great. I like her a lot, but I think you're heading in the wrong direction with her."

Daryl tensed as he comprehended each word. He knew how Carol felt. They were supposed to be past this. It didn't make him angry, just kind of sad and regretful he couldn't return her sentiment. Without much to say in response he just stood and was prepared to walk away. She touched his arm.

"I'm sorry. But I feel like she's a child. You're a grown man and…" He cut her off there.

"You'd be better suited for tha job?" The expression on his face said the rest. His mouth was taught and his eyes were hard. Silently telling her she was on dangerous ground with him. "I ain't stupid Carol, there isn't anythin' goin on between me an' Clara. She's a good hunter. It's alotta work doin all of it by myself."

He paused and put a little more distance between himself and her. "Yeah, I like her…so what? I've seen what that does to people these days and I ain't interested. Plus, Clara's more of a grown woman than half the women here."

Carol met his eyes as her jaw set in frustration. Daryl sighed and hugged her. Out of his character but he also knew there was no good coming out pf them staying mad at one another.

"I'm sorry I can't feel the same way." His voice was tender and he felt her nod against his chest. She squeezed him and he carefully pulled away.

"I'm sorry too." Carol patted his shoulder again before returning to her task of soaking the meat down. He didn't hesitate to move on and get back to what he'd told Clara he'd do. Daryl thought over what Carol had said. He wasn't really mad at her now, but she couldn't dictate his actions.

He and the blonde was a team. They worked well together. She didn't tolerate his shit and vice versa. Clara was good for this group…and in weaker moments he would like to think she was good for him too.


	11. Chapter 11

As Beth walked away, Clara stretched and yawned. What a day she'd had. At the crack of dawn her and Daryl had hit the woods to come up short with only a few small animals. Then she had to skin them by herself as Rick pulled him away for a quick run.

Then she was talked into helping Carol and Karen with laundry. Then after dinner she spent her time with Beth. She'd been teaching her how to play guitar and she was slowly getting the hang of it. But Clara was exhausted. Her leg wasn't feeling the best and honestly she just wanted to sleep.

As she started towards her bedroom, Hershel was sitting and speaking with Glenn quietly. Clara smiled and said her good nights. Her body nearly collapsed as soon as she shut her curtains. She glanced around quickly to make sure everything was in its place and slipped out of her jeans.

Clara didn't bother with her pjs, she just hit the bed in her undies and teeshirt. In no time she fell into a deep sleep.

There was a noise. It was muffled at first. But her senses roused her. The young woman blinked into the darkness a few times before she was able to fully focus on what had woken her up. Then there was a a strangled cry. Clara sat up and strained to hear. As she shifted to stand she grabbed the machete from behind the frame.

The sobs weren't coherent but she quickly realized who they belonged to. Her heart sank as she yanked back the sheets and stepped out quietly after setting the large blade down. Once her eyes adjusted, she seen Hershel and Maggie crowded around a weeping Beth.

Confusion hit her. What had happened to upset the younger teenager so much?

As if the universe was directly responding, the hushed sound of a side step make her spine tingle.

"Zach got killed."

Clara covered her mouth with shock after she received the news about Beth's new boyfriend. Daryl shifted and stepped again to where he was a little farther away and facing slightly away from her. She took a deep breath and shook her head.

"Poor Beth.." Clara knew how much Beth had started to take to the guy. But as she wanted to take steps to join the Greens, Daryl shook his head and motioned towards her cell. She begrudgingly listened and held the sheet open for him. Her eyes were watering too. That family was the closest thing she had to a family again.

Daryl set his crossbow down as he pulled his lighter out and lit her lantern. Clara watched him, seeing they must have just returned. It must be 3 or 4 am by now. Then she seen him. She hissed and cringed.

"Jesus, you okay?" Her voice whispered as she took a few steps towards him. He was busy pulling out clean gauze from his pocket and a few alcohol wipes. He grunted and she made no hesitations about taking them from him and pulling a chair up. His left upper arm had a nasty gash.

"We ran out ta get the usual, no big deal." His breath left him in a flurry of curses as she began quickly trying to clean the wound. "Damnit…well, normal shit. A few walkers, took care'a them. Got in tha car ta head back and we were t-boned by some fuckin' truck." Clara could almost hear his teeth grinding as she applied a fresh towelette to the exposed flesh.

"Zach was drivin…he didn't suffer…made sure he wouldn't be comin' back. " As if to punctuate his words another sob escaped Beth and echoed through the prison as people were still sleeping. Or pretending to be sleeping. Clara paused and sniffled as she felt her own heart breaking for the girl she'd come to care for.

"Me an Michonne killed a few of em but the car was done. We hoofed it back. There was four of em." Daryl stopped talking as Clara began wrapping the gauze around his arm.

"This is going to need stitches whenever Hershel gets a chance." She spoke it softly and Daryl nodded, standing and grabbing his bow with his good arm. When he stepped away where she could get a good look at him, she felt a pang of worry spark through her. He looked exhausted.

His clothes were covered in splotches of blood. The older man was wary and he seemed to be trying to think straight.

"Im gonna give em a bit. Gotta talk ta Rick about what happened. Get dressed and meet me in tha library here in a few." He paused and avoided looking at her bare legs. "I'm gonna need ya on this. I gotta feeling."

Clara felt self conscious about her state of dress but kept her cool. Her hazel eyes watched the flame of the lantern cast moving shadows across his body.

"M'kay. Ill put my jeans on and be right down." She immediately grabbed the pants from the floor and looked back to him as she slipped into them. He was looking down and she seen a side of him she'd never seen before. Daryl looked sad. She stopped moving and felt out of place.

With the darkness, the orange glow of the lantern, the muffled cries down the way and Daryl bloodied and looking the way he did…Clara didn't know what to say. She knew by now he wasn't big on verbal communication. So as if she was approaching a wounded dog, the young woman carefully pulled the bow from him.

Daryl stiffened and held on tightly, until Clara growled and used his exhaustion against him. She placed it on the floor and reached for him. She was quiet and careful not to give him the opportunity to run or snap at her. Her arms wrapped around his mid section and she gently hugged him. She held on and felt her heart thumping.

Seconds enveloped them as he slowly responded. He was stiff against her but eventually relaxed and lifted his left arm to wrap around her shoulders. He didn't cry, he didn't do anything. Just hugged her.

"Gettin tired of losin' people. It's one thing to lose someone ta walkers, 'nother thing when ya lose em ta other people." He squeezed her tightly for a second and gently pushed her away. He groaned as he leaned over and grabbed his bow. His blue eyes met hers momentarily and he walked out.

Clara just stood there. She was trying to process. She couldn't hear Beth anymore. The lingering smell of blood and rubbing alcohol stung her nose and she began putting her boots on. Daryl's words weighed heavy on her mind as she rushed out to meet with the Council. She'd never been asked to join them before for anything. This is how she knew it was really bad.

That and the look in his eyes. It left her uneasy and with that survivalists foreboding of danger. Clara knew after she found out what was going on she'd go see Beth. Even if she just peeps in to make sure she was breathing. Life loved screwing with people these days.


	12. Chapter 12

"They hit us on the drivers side. Zach was instantly killed. Daryl made sure he wouldn't come back." The council listened quietly as Michonne retold the events that led up to this state of sadness and slight panic.

"We shot two of the men. I think the other two weren't expecting retaliation because they jumped in the truck and left. Daryl and I walked back."

Daryl sat quietly as he listened to the others talk and throw in words that was drowned out by the pain in his arm. His left side hurt too, he might even have a broken rib. When Hershel joined them he looked deeply sad and his eyes were red. A pang of guilt laced itself through him. He should have drove.

Before he could wallow any deeper the familiar steps of Clara followed the old man in. She slipped into one of the corners and stood there, obviously trying not to seem suspicious. His eyes were adjusted to the dim light enough to see her wrapping her arms around herself.

"Do you think they are close by?" Ricks voice asked him. Daryl looked at his friend and sighed.

"I dunno. They seemed like they had been there, waitin' on someone to roll through…"

Michonne backed his claim up. "I've seen groups do this. They set up and wait. Kill whoever and take what they have. Damn vultures." Her voice went tight and everyone fell silent, it was Rick who broke it.

"Do you remember the truck?"

Daryl snorted. "Big truck, blue…they hadda a rack on tha front of it. Spikes and shit." He remember what those spikes had done to the car, and to Zach. He listened as everyone began bickering and arguing about what they should do. Then he seen it out if the corner of his eyes. A twitch from Clara. Like she was trying to fight off some instinct.

He'd seen her do that the first time he'd ever snuck up on her. Something about it didn't set right with him.

"Clara?" He asked calmly. She blanched and slowly leaned off the wall. Her steps were silent as she went to stand next to where Daryl now sat. The group stopped talking as if now just seeing her.

"Got anythin to say?" Daryl's voice left him, his voice weary and almost sorry to ask. She met his eyes as tears brimmed her lower lids, but not spilling over.

"Your looking for a group that calls themselves The Leftovers. Sounds stupid, but they aren't. They send scouting groups out that bait and scavenge what they can…looking for places to hole up in. Last place I seen them was up north as I moved my way down from New York."

Her body language was on edge as she held onto herself. Daryl felt light headed.

"They aren't exactly hospitable. They'd rather shoot you and leave you for dead. I managed to get in with them long enough for them to help me get south. Never scouted for them, just helped keep guard around the camp."

Clara's body language said what she wasn't. It said how she was nervous. Unsure. Afraid. Daryl cleared his throat and winced as he stood.

"Do ya think they could find there way here?" He met her eyes again and she shook her head.

"Chances are they already know where we are. But they won't attack here, at least not anytime soon.." Clara seemed very sure of this. Good enough for him.

"Then I say we get some damn sleep and rehash in tha mornin." The group agreed and parted ways. As Rick left they locked eyes and nodded, silent promise that they'd keep this place safe. Daryl let everyone clear out before he started towards his cell. His injuries could wait until he's slept some.

The promise of sleep was cut short by the blonde girl waiting for him. He wasn't too surprised to see her, but his patience was thin right now. Almost as if he was ignoring her, he began unlacing his boots.

"Well?" He asked as he kicked out of his boots and made sure his bow and gun were easily accessible.

Clara stayed still before shifting her weight to her good leg. "Im worried. Hard telling how many there are of them…they are tough.." She was cut off as he growled.

"They are not tough! They're a buncha pussies who choose to take than ta do any real work for themselves. I don't give a flyin two shits bout what you know. I'm gonna kill the sombitch who was drivin that truck."

Only after his rant did he really realize how rough and mean he'd sounded towards Clara. She only nodded and stood there staring at the floor. But his pain was only getting worse and couldn't bring himself to be apologetic.

"You'll need ta be there in tha morning. Don't be goin' out. Stay where someone can see ya. Gotta have the old man check me out after I get up. Might need ya ta help." His voice relaxed as his back hit his bed and he closed his eyes.

"Go get some sleep girl, gotta feelin none of us will be gettin a lot of it soon."

Behind closed eyes he could imagine her face was tight and her mouth screwed shut. After a minuet she walked out without saying goodnight. Just as well.

When he was alone and the prison fell quiet, he recalled the days events.

One minuet the kid was driving, the next Daryl was slammed around and covered in blood. His ears had rang. Poor kid had nearly been ripped in half when the truck reversed after him and Michonne shot at them. The man gritted his teeth and struggled to get comfortable.

Its like life hated him, all of them. Poor Beth. Girl will hurt for a while. Zach had been a good kid. Would have been good for her. Now they'd never know.


	13. Chapter 13

Sleep was hard to get for Clara. She had tossed and turned. She thought about Beth. She thought about Zach. But the one thing that ran through her mind was those that had caused this hurt. The Leftovers. That twisted sick gang of idiots. She laid there and wished the memories away until her body won the battle over her mind and slept.

Next morning came and she found herself rushing to Daryl's cell. Clara wasn't upset with him. She can't imagine what he felt like. He didn't let on a lot but she knew him better than he thought. He was sweating. She knew enough to know he wasn't waiting any longer to get seen.

His blue eyes met hers and she gave him a smile. "C'mon." Clara spoke as softly as she could to not feel like she was mothering him. He grunted and nodded.

"Hurts like a bitch." He followed her out and when they found Hershel, it was obvious he hadn't slept. But he was still sharp and noticed Daryl's state. The two got him sat down and Clara was deemed the official 'go getter'. She had ran all over finding more alcohol and swabs, thread and other items Hershel needed to patch Daryl up.

When he needed to sew the wound, he shook his head. "Now son, this is goin' to hurt. Shoulda came to me last night before it got sore." The old man rolled his sleeves up and prepared his needle. "Clara honey, slide behind him and wrap your arms around him. Can't have him moving around."

Clara nodded and was careful not to shift the bed much. Every nudge seemed to make Daryl squint and cuss.

"He's got a broken rib so don't squeeze too tight."

Clara moved her legs to where they laid along the sides of his thighs. She was nervous. Gently she pressed her torso against his back and wrapped her arms around his. She felt small for a moment. The ridges of muscle along his back felt like rock. Clara felt the heat radiating off him, along with the slight moisture of his sweat.

"Alright. Daryl bite down on this." Hershel instructed as he placed a plain piece of leather into the man's mouth. Clara squeezed him a little tighter. Her own anxiety coming to the surface. "Here we go…" Right as she heard him say this, Daryl stiffened and his muscles twitched.

He was trying to be quiet but every other breath was let out with a sound of pain. Like a whimper but more angry. She held on though. She wouldn't let him down. He was her friend. After half an hour Hershel announced they were half way there. Daryl was coated in sweat and she had her cheek resting on the area between his shoulder blades.

Every time he'd jerk her muscles would scream with the force it took to keep him still. Then his skin would shift under her cheek and she'd feel something raised there. Her mind pondered on what could have caused something like that there. A scar. Bad one. It had to be raised, thick and probably braided like rope. She'd seen those scars on women who'd been traded around between men.

Men like the ones involved with the LO's. She shivered but came back down when Daryl spit the leather out and growled.

"Jesus Christ….shit!" He said exasperated as Hershel worked on the 22'd stitch. Clara used her face to rub a small spot along the scar through his shirt. He went stiff again, but got quiet as she began to sing to them. It wad some song her mother would sing while she cooked before her dad got sick.

Her voice was low but she didn't want to be loud. She was singing to him. Trying to take him away frome the pain, physical and mental. The longer her raspy/smooth voice sang, the more his breathing seemed to even out. Clara had her eyes closed as she switched from singing to humming. Minuets passed and when Hershel spoke it nearly startled her.

"All done. Mind what ya do. You pull those stitches you're gonna be in a mess." Hershel stood and wobbled to his bag, wrapping his dirty stuff up and setting it aside. He dug around and handed Daryl some pills and a cup of water. "Muscle relaxers. Help take the pain away."

Clara took this as her que and climbed around to get from behind him. She looked him over and seen the extensive stitches. It was going to leave a terrible scar. But she didn't worry about that hurting his look, just like the one on his back didn't. Her cheeks flushed at the thought and she looked away from him.

"So, how'm I sposed ta hunt? Do anythin for that matter?" Daryl asked, voice sounding raspy before he swallowed down the pills. Hershel gave him a grim, tight lipped smile.

"Clara's good enough to make your rounds out in the woods. Somebody else can handle guard duty." In that Hershel way, the old man wiped off his hands and let out a breath. "Son, you had a rough day yesterday. You need rest. You do so much for all of us. Let us do something for you."

Seeing he was about to argue Clara spoke up. "Daryl..please? You're no good if you aggravate your injuries. Heal now and it'll be sooner than you messing yourself up and prolonging the process…" The 18 year old gave him a stern look and was honestly surprised when he gave in.

"A week tops. Got some crazy ass gang runnin round out there…"

"I know. And these people are going to need you well so you can do what you have to do." Clara cut him off and Hershel gave her a side glance. After a minuet he said he'd be back to see Daryl and for him to go back to his cell and lay down. He held Clara back though as she watched her hunting partner walk away.

"The council will need to know everything you know honey. All the details, bad and good." Hershel was giving her the father eyes that seen right through her. She took a deep breath and nodded.

"I know. I'll do everything I can. But it's going to take more than what we got I'm afraid." She shuddered and the old man wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Clara, do you know why I am able to stand right now?" He was serious but there was a kind smile threatening to spread across his face. "Because of faith. Faith in God, my girls and these people."

Clara smiled and swallowed the lump in her throat. "Your girls are strong. So is this group. And God, well he's mysterious but I think he's doing what he can."

Her voice was tight as she suddenly felt very home sick for days of her youth and missing saying a good night prayer with her family. So much had changed her and this world. Very emotional to see someone like Hershel who still kept his bible by his side.

He smiled and hugged her then, seeing the emotions across her face. "Yes. Very mysterious. We all have building blocks that keep us firm. You need to find yours and cling to them. Keeps us human. Maggie, Beth and now you keep me here and remind me of the wonderful yet mysterious ways the world works. In this life and beyond. Don't forget that."

He kissed the top of her head and left to go see where else he was needed. But Clara stood frozen. Her heart heavy and her spirit lifted. Whatever terrors she would now have to face, which ever ghosts waited to be laid to rest…she had a family. Somehow she belonged here. She'd defend and die for this group.

Even if it meant her having to become an animal again. Her stomach clenched as she kicked herself into motion and went to find Rick.


	14. Chapter 14

The next few days were hell on Daryl as he was on the mend. Hershel kept tabs on him and every move he made the old man was there to keep an eye on him. Made him stir crazy and cranky. He'd watch as people ran around picking up his slack and it made him feel useless. Especially seeing Clara going out before sun up to hunt.

He did enjoy watching her come back, slightly sweaty and arrows bloody from a good hunt. She seemed to almost do better out there on her own…almost. But he had been given a job to help eat away at his down time. He was shoulder to shoulder with Rick, helping him try to make plans about this gang.

They had formulated an escape plan, defensive plans, food plans and other things. His head was hurting with all the thinking he'd had to do. But he knew Rick valued his opinion and deep down he liked being important. The only plan they were struggling with was how they would approach this Leftovers gang.

Should they go after them, should they wait for them to find the prison? Clara was asked to attend these meetings but she just circled around the same points. They weren't stupid. They were equipped. They were vicious.

But, they weren't the most organized. The leader was impulsive and arrogant Clara had stated. He had listened to the gory details about how they ran and what all she'd seen. He watched her as she spoke. When Rick would ask her questions about the leader she'd twitch.

This infuriated him. That sonuvabitch had done something to her. But by the white knuckle grip she would have on her shirt or jeabs, he'd had guess she'd probably retaliated too. Good. The idea of someone touching her, especially against her will…made him livid. But as they wrapped it up, Clara sighed.

"Our best route would be to to let me draw them away from the prison. I just have a feeling they know were here. The way supplies are by what you have told me…they'd over run this place."

Silence fell and Daryl wanted to scream. Rick beat him to it.

"Whadda ya mean?" Rick eyed her cautiously and cast side glances at Daryl and Hershel.

"Let me go to them and convince them there's nothing here of intrest. I can be quite persuasive."

"Hell no!" Daryl growled as he hit the table with his good arm. "That's stupid! They could do anythin to ya!" He was at his breaking point and almost regretted it when he seen Clara flinch before gritting her teeth.

Hershel began using his daddy voice and Rick tried speaking reason but Clara was getting more and more wound up. Daryl shut his mouth when he seen that look cross her face. It was reminescent of his brothers face when he'd pushed him too far. He knew the shit was about to hit the fan….and then…nothing.

Clara took a deep breath and steeled herself. "Okay." She said. Simple and defeated. They all stopped talking and Daryl gave her a look of bewilderment.

"Okay?" The hunter asked, not believing she was done. The blonde nodded and threw her arms up.

"Yeah, okay. You all have valid reasons. I know you all care about me. We'll figure it out somehow so the answer is okay." Her hazel eyes looked to Hershel and then him. She wad guarded and he knew she wasn't giving up. She was pacifying them. And after that she walked out.

He wanted to follow and persue the issue but the other men stopped him. Daryl just noticed hoe badly hos arm was hurting. But his head felt foggy. He was on dangerous ground. He couldn't just stand back and let her become a martyr. He had come to care about her. Clara was more than what he'd ever to find in a woman. Especially a younger one.

And for all reasons why he shouldn't, he still couldn't stop himself from wanting her. Clara was every bit his equal and yet a challenge. He had a gut feeling she had left plenty unsaid. Damn. Once enough time had passed they let him leave to cool off. He'd not intended to follow her to her cell…but he was impulsive and she'd just have to deal.

He found her looking into her guitar case. She seemed…quiet. Of course she was quiet, but that demeanor she had was quiet. The hairs along his back rose up. As he stepped in she sighed and pulled a picture out. Was the one he'd seen before.

"When the shit hit the fan I was in New York. Was going to do a free concert in Times Square. The news broke and everyone started panicking." Clara was awfully calm and Daryl sat in the wooden chair, intent on listening.

"Our security guys got us out and back to the bus." She turned the picture around to point out the guy with the long brown hair. "This was Curtis. He was married and had a little boy." Then pointed to the bald guy with a red beard. "This was Louie. He was single, came from a small town like me. He had a cat named Silky. He had a tumor in his spine that the doctors would'nt touch. Couldn't run fast because of it. And finally…there was …"

He watched her dig around and pull out a old polaroid. "This is Manuel. He was the comedian and a kick ass bassist. Manny was also gay. But he was conservative about it. He was also the closest to me." She let Daryl study the picture. Manny had a masculine look. Unless he'd been a man who'd acted 'gay'…he probably wouldn't have guessed it.

"Looks like a nice guy." Daryl said, trying to be sincere. Clara gave him a small smile.

"Curtis and Louie were dead within a few days of mass outbreak. Along with our manager and security team. Manny and I stocked up and slipped out of New York. We had heard about centers set up that were safe, but we never found any."

Daryl watched as she put her things away and sat back on her bed, indian style. Her blonde hair was fraying around the line of her face and made her look very tired. He waited for her to continue.

"We made it to the boarder and were scared stupid. Walkers everywhere. Half starved. Manny was from New Mexico and born to a traditionalist family. He could survive. And we did. Then one day we were scoping a place out and he got shot. Clean pass through but I couldn't treat him.

Our attackers came into sight and they seen us. They recognized me and took us in. The leader, Thomas, was the typical asshole type. Dominant, hard and merciless…"

She stopped talking and he could see her tense up. Clara looked away from him and then back. Eyes were brimmed with unshed tears and her nose turning red. But she swallowed it down and finished.

"The LO's are bad news. They were full of hate and self satisfaction. I was an object and Manny was used against me. They killed him. The night I escaped a herd was coming through. Destroyed everything. Cicily, Thomas' girlfriend had tried to kill me because she was jealous. I killed her and took her .38. That's when I got the fuck out of there."

Daryl let the silence stretch until he couldn't take it anymore. Carefully he stood and walked the few steps between them and he crouched, touching her hand. He felt awkward and foolish, but when she sighed and let him hold her hand…he felt relief. He felt like he should be saying something.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled as he squeezed her hand and she squeezed back. Slowly Daryl stood and let go, not done with the earlier conversation. "After all that, why would ya wanna go back?"

Clara rolled her eyes and pushed the fly aways out of her face. He was not unaware to her frustration. "Because Daryl. This place is my home. You guys are the closest thing I got to family." She was sincere. The older man felt his chest tighten.

"We'll play it your way. If it doesn't work or I think people are going to get hurt…you need to let me go."

Hazel eyes met his blue ones and she nodded towards him before walking out to leave him alone with his thoughts. Daryl felt sad, angry, confused and motivated. The whole situation had his head hurting. But the reality was she was free to do whatever she wanted. There was no claim on her. She was a free spirit.


	15. Chapter 15

The next few days were tense as the whole prison avoided coming across Daryl. Clara found herself spending as much time in the woods as she could get away with. Guiltily, she too purposely avoided the hunter. This morning she'd managed to bag a doe. After field dressing the animal and getting it within the fences, Carl came out to help her hang it and quarter it. Carl never said a whole lot of much, but he was trying make small talk.

Clara took a moment to catch her breath before they needed to hack the rear quarters off. She wiped the blood matted deer hair onto her jeans. Carl gave her a look from under his father's old hat.

"You're pretty good with this stuff…" The younger teenager smiled and quickly sharpened his knife on his wet stone. Clara nodded and stood slowly, cracking her back and neck.

"Well it's not that hard to do. You should ask Daryl to take you out after he gets better." Her response seemed to placate him. After the doe was quartered and given to Carol to cook, the pair split up. Clara was in desperate need of scrubbing her arms and changing her clothes. She went outside and grabbed one of the wash buckets and filled it up. Clara sat down on the edge of the grass and began scrubbing.

As the blood began loosening up and running down her arms in little rivelets, her mind began drifting. Before the Apocalypse when her and her father used to hunt, she never got this messy. Blood grossed her out back then, now it just signaled victory or defeat. The 18 year old thought about back when she was running with the LO's. About the night she'd left them.

Clara's hands and nails dug into her skin as she scrubbed and scrubbed.

The night of her escape, she was in a tent by herself. Manuel had been murdered only a week prior and her bruises were still tender. She had been dangerously thin due to treatment and being starved for punishment, Thomas had told her she could eat when she learned her place. Clara was ready to break. But when Cecily had barged in wielding her .38…Clara's instincts had kicked in. Her weakened body had just enough strength to throw her off and grab her. When the two had hit the floor, Cecily's grip on the revolver slipped and slid away.

With everything in her she punched and scratched until her grip secured the gun. Then before she could think all six shots were taken and she was beating the brunette with the empty revolver. With every blow, tiny bits of blood would splatter out. Once it was all over and she had put distance between the camp, the horde and the memories…she'd nearly collapsed in a creek. It had taken her weeks to feel clean again.

Clara shook her arms dry and emptied her bucket. Avoiding all contact with everyone and hurrying, she went to her cell and changed into her comfy sweats and tank top. Her mind was heavily weighed down with thoughts about what options they might have. It soured her stomach. And just as worst, the complicated thing with Daryl. The look on his face had nearly tore her into. He tried so hard to keep himself under lid but…she could see it. Well his anger made it obvious, but the look. It had spoke volumes.

Clara felt mixed feelings towards the older man. She liked the feeling of him being protective but she also worried. She'd been on her own for a while now. Having feelings for him would only complicate the situation in case she did end up needing to lead the LO's away from the prison group. But she had the resolve to know that whatever happened she'd do whats best for the goup.

A few hours later Clara was helping some of the Woodbury women clean the kitchen. They were pretty wary of Clara because of her position as prime meat bringer until Daryl got back up to par. Beth was even pouting because she was too tired to give her lessons the past few days. After everything was cleaned up Clara grabbed a few pieces of pan bread and a big bowl of the stew the ladies had made. She took a deep breath and hoped Daryl's crankiness would be subtle with the big bowl of soup.

And of course she found him cleaning guns, most which weren't his. Well now she knew how he's been keeping himself entertained. Her soft footfalls didn't fall on deaf ears. Without looking up he grunted a harsh hello. Clara rolled her eyes and set his food down on his desk.

"Heard ya got a doe." His statement sounded almost bored. "Carl helped ya get it cut up?"

Clara sighed and took rifle from him and handed him his food. "Mhm, he's a nice kid. You need to take him out sometime. I would but he respects you more." Daryl shrugged and began eating. His shortness with her was reminding her why she had been avoiding him. Friend or not. Slowly she started working her way towards the cell door before he wiped his mouth.

"I don' want you goin' ta find those asshole's. If it comes down to it, I'll go with ya."

Clara gaped at him and huffed up, pointing out the shoulder that was still wrapped. But before she could argue he shot her that look. The one that made her insides boil and her skin heat over.

"You don' have a say in tha matter." Daryl snapped, followed by the clank of his spoon as he dropped it back into his soup with frustration. "I ain't a god damned cripple! You don' need ta be runnin after those assholes without some kinda support." With

every word he spoke he seemed just to get madder and madder. Clara was starting to wince and lean away from his direction. After a moment of letting his words sink in, his voice softened.

"You're a grown woman, age be damned. You're capable. I jus' don' wanna risk you goin out there and dying alone with no way of me knowin…" As Daryl said this he diverted his eyes from her and stared at the food in his hands. Clara felt her heart rate rising but she was planted where she stood. Her hazel eyes fixed on his every move. Daryl was vulnerable. He had exposed a part of himself he kept locked away. She wanted to speak but her mouth wasn't up to the challenge.

Quietly she walked over to his bed and sat down gently. Despite her aching heart he also felt sick. If she were to be successful with Thomas and his gang, she'd need to be 'single'. Carefully Clara leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder gently.

"I care about you too." Her usually strong voice sounded shy and meek. He was still and his skin under her cheek felt smooth and warm. The blond closed her eyes just for a moment as she fantasized about kissing the skin where her face touched. Clara resisted but settled for inhaling his unique scent. Always leather, smoke and the cleaning agent he used to maintain weapons. It always soothed her turmoil when she'd get to stand close enough to smell or the wind would kick it up into her direction.

Daryl took a moment and right before she could get up he rested his head on top of hers. She felt a faint smile ghost her lips. When the moment had passed them by, he finished eating in silence. As she watched him chew on the chunks of meat, the knot in her stomach tightened. Though Hershel and his daughters were like her family…Daryl was more than that. He was brash and over bearing sometimes. Drove her fucking crazy. He also boiled down to someone she looked forward to seeing.

Clara loved the signs of mutual understanding. His small grins. His need to push her to he limits and encouraging her to do better. The 18 year old sighed and rubbed her face. She was smitten with him, but it would have to wait.

"Thanks for dinner. Was good." He grunted with satisfaction as he placed his hand on his belly and leaned back. Clara smiled and nodded.

"Was my pleasure. Tomorrow we're going to get those stitches looked at and we're gonna work that shoulder out." She gave him a wry smile and took his bowl and spoon, "Goodnight Daryl." The young woman paused and leaned down, placing the briefest of feather light kisses on his cheek. Clara pulled away quickly but not before she seen how tense he was. He finally exhaled and nodded to her his own silent version of goodnight.

As Clara rounded the corner from his room she came upon Carol who looked as if she'd been caught red handed. Clara stopped and just blinked. The older woman looked very conflicted and upset. After what seemed like forever Carol sighed and motioned to the food in her hands.

"Seems like you beat me to it." Her modest face looked etched with a deep knowledge that Clara was amiss to. But the blond had a feeling it had a double meaning. She knew the older woman harbored a crush on him. Everyone did by the way she spoke of him. Another pang of guilt laced its way through her.

"Yeah, I had helped clean up and went ahead and brought him some soup…" It was suddenly very awkward between the two women. Clara looked down at her feet for a moment, trying to think of the words.

"Well I am happy you care for him…" Carol paused and then shifted her weight onto her other foot. "He's a strong man but you have become a weakness for him. You're lucky. Don't screw with him." And with those few words she ducked out and walked away.

Clara sighed and decided a shower and sleep sounded wonderful. On her way to the shower she dropped the bowl and spoon off. She knew if she had to deal with anything more than the LO situation and Daryl tomorrow she really just might kill someone.


	16. Chapter 16

It was a foreboding. Well if that was the right word for it. Daryl first heard the shuffling outside his cell. Slowly, he opened his eyes and before he could yell at whoever was making the noise he heard Hershel.

"Daryl!" The hunter sat straight up and met the old mans faded worried eyes. Fear struck a chord through him that seemed to almost knock him breathless. He was on his feet and didn't bother to pull on his shoes. Daryl grunted as he stumbled over and caught himself on the above bunk bed.

"Clara's gone. I thought she'd went out to hunt but she left her bow…Her gun and machete is gone." Hershel struggled to voice his discovery and by the water in his eyes, she was gone. Daryl felt the earth give way and his stomach felt as if it had lit afire. He didn't hesitate to push the man to the side as he ran to her room. Inside he found Beth crying, holding a note. The hunter looked around and seen she'd taken all the essentials. But she left her bow and guitar case.

"This is for you.." Beth sniffled and handed over the carefully folded note. His hand shook as he took it fro her with rough fingers. Beth carefully maneuvered out of his way, sensing the break down to come. Daryl unfolded it and started to read the message.

_Daryl,_

_ I couldn't wait any longer. It was eating away at me knowing they were out there. I have to do something. I have more to lose now then what I ever have. I left my stuff because I plan on coming back. Do NOT come after me, you'll get me killed if you do. Tell Hershel and the girls keep at it and Beth is to continue practicing with my guitar. _

_ I am sorry I didn't wait on you…but I have my reasons. Please get better and prepare everyone in case I fail. _

_ Miss you._

He looked up for confirmation that maybe this was a cruel joke or maybe he was even dreaming. But the drying tears on Beth's face and her wide blue eyes told him this was real. Hershel quietly sent her away as he too sensed the storm about to erupt from the other man. He re-read the note again, finally clutching it in his fist. She left. Clara was gone. This felt like losing Merle in Atlanta but it was different. His mind couldn't make sense of the gaping void that suddenly sucked all his hope he'd been learning to have since the blond had come into his life.

"She…she just left? Didn't say anythin to anyone? Jus took off?" He wanted to punch himself at how his voice sounded too desperate for any answers. Hershel nodded and took a hobbled step towards Daryl, not knowing what to say to console as he too was hurting.

"She never said anything to anyone, she just left." Hershel touched his shoulder but Daryl shrugged the hand and turned away. Before he could say another word Daryl yelled furious. His blue eyes went shut behind his reckless bangs. His mind was breaking and his chest made it impossible to breath as he just began screaming. The small desk that still held some of Clara's odds and ends was smashed against the wall in his frenzy. Before white hot anger pushed him to smashing her bow, arms wrapped around him in a choke hold.

"Daryl! Calm down!" Rick's voice cut through the haze as he growled and tried to shake him but it was no use. The former office pushed his knees out, causing him to fall down to the floor. Rick tried talking to him calmly, tried reassuring him that she was strong. But Daryl knew this, which is why it hurt. All these people here needed him, needed his ability to do dirty work and hunt. Clara didn't need him to survive. That's what had him snared with her, and what was breaking his heart.

After Rick's words started to sink in and silence enveloped the cell block once again, Daryl angrily wiped away the tears that bared his pain. When had he started crying? That only served to make him angrier, but he was so angry he didn't know what to say except one thing.

"She's gone, Rick.." His voice was raspy from screaming and his shoulder was burning. His friend motioned something to Hershel, who quickly left. Rick firmly gripped Daryl's arms and helped hoist him up. Daryl grunted as his shoulder twinged with the skin pulling.

"Daryl, brother….listen to me.." Rick placed his hands on the man's shoulders as he made sure his attention was on him. "She'll come back. Clara is smart and she will be okay."

Daryl clenched his jaw and opened up his mouth but Rick cut him off.

"WE will give her time to do this. There's a lot at risk and she knew that. I don't wanna wait around either but we have to give her a chance!" Rick sounded like he was also trying to convince himself too. Daryl numbly nodded and gripped the paper in his hand tighter. Ricks voice dropped and he drew his friend closer. "I know how you feel about her. Just stay strong, she'll be back."

Daryl blinked and let the words sink in. He would give her time, but he didn't have much of a choice. These people needed him and he didn't want to risk her. So he did the only thing he could do…he pushed it down and sucked it up. He'd get better and help the Council formulate a backup plan. He'd follow her instruction, but he'd curse her name every step of the way.

"We'll start preparin' here…" Daryl whispered and Rick sighed, relieved his friend was seeing through his emotions. They put space between them and Daryl quickly walked away. He needed to put his boots on and he needed a smoke. When he got to his room he shakily popped the filtered tobacco between his lips. The first inhale stung his reddened nose for a second until he adjusted.

After everything this world has thrown at him, why this too? Daryl felt tired of caring about people just to have them leave or die. He bit the inside of his cheek harshly until the metallic taste tinged through the smoke. He would keep his shit together. Merle would beat the hell out of him if he seen him crying for some girl. He felt guilty then, Daryl knew she wasn't some girl. She was Clara, that lady with such fire that ate through his skin without even trying. He uncrumbled the note and read it again before shoving it into the inside pocket of his vest. The last of it's words making the lips holding the burning cigarette slightly tremble.

Miss you.


	17. Chapter 17

The woods were quiet, which was normal these days. But the hairs on the back of her neck remained raised. The short blond made her way through the trees and bushes, keeping an eye out for anything particular. Hours drug by and she was getting ready to stop to make camp when she smelt it. Decay. Rot. Her stomach turned and she knew she'd lucked out. Clara took out her machete and sighed.

Oddly though, the LO's camp hadn't been well hidden. Quietly she made her way towards the smell. She was no louder than the wind when she was met by the signature barrier. Walkers. Tied to trees and lethargic. Their bottom jaw being ripped from them. The yellowed eyes of death just watched her with boredom. Clara remembered when Thomas started doing this. Said he'd seen a woman a while back traveling with 'pet walkers'. She'd called him crazy until he tried it and it worked.

After she'd managed to slip past the walkers, she seen the tents and the many people buzzing around. Most of them were new faces, but she could make out a few she's seen before. Her heart began racing. Fear wound itself up in the deepest pit of her stomach but she pushed it down. She had a purpose for facing these demons. Clara had a family to protect, a home. After hunkering down behind a bunch of plastic totes they used for storage, the only option was to just walk right in. Immediately she would be restrained and taken to Thomas. He'd beat the shit out of her, then she'd have to prove herself to him…again.

The girl stood up, put her machete in its place on her belt and walked dead ahead. It took a second for people to realize she was a stranger, but when they did it happened fast. A big guy, battle scarred and ugly, yoked her up and slammed her to the ground. Another man aimed a gun at her head while someone behind them hollered for help. Dozens of eyes were glued to Clara. Her bangs were in her eyes and she stayed still. The big guys hands were a vice grip on the back of her neck and head.

"Easy now, I'm here to see Thomas." Clara's voice rang out above the whispers and shuffling of boots on the ground around her. The man holding her down shifted his weight as he shot looks towards the other men.

"How you know Tom?" His grip tightened and she could feel some of the hair being pulled from her scalp. Clara gritted her teeth and swallowed the collection of saliva in her mouth.

"Me and Tommy go way back. I was in the neighborhood and thought Id stop in to say Hello." Her sarcasm was noted as the man lifted her effortlessly to her feet. Clara dusted her pants off and looked around. There was a lot more people. Tents were set up systematically, trenches were dug. Yep, the show was still being ran the same. That gave her some comfort, less to change the more she'll be able to predict.

During this moment she was taking to look around, another set of hands grabbed her. She grumbled and tried to push them off but Clara realized it'd be better to play along. One by one she was rendered helpless as they took all weapons and possessions. She was left with nothing more than what she was wearing. The big guy turned her around and began walking her through the encampment.

Clara began taking notice to everything she could. These details might mean the difference between life and death later. When they stopped, she almost wanted to chuckle at the tent before her. Definitely Thomas' style. Large, overly guarded and post-apocalyptic lavish. That man definitely over compensated. A smirk crossed her lips at the thought.

"Hey Tom?" The big guy asked, death grip on her upper arm. A deep throaty sound came from within and Clara froze. "You got a visitor."

She stood there silent as they waited. Clara's heart rate rocketed and she was suddenly regretting her decision. She should have stayed at the prison. Should have stayed close to Daryl. Then the flap on the tent pushed itself to the side and he appeared. Just the same. Tall, tan, muscular…Clara had to force a smile. Thomas' dark brown eyes widened, he genuinely looked taken off guard. The only difference physically in him was a few scars around his face and he had more hair than last time.

"Clara?" His voice was gruff and cautious. The big guy kept a hold on her, waiting for his next order. Clara glanced around her before nodding and licking her lips.

"In the flesh." The blonde was trying to remain calm. Any minuet now he would lash out. Make an example of her. Thomas remained stock still and tense. Clearly he was trying to figure out what to do now. The vein in his neck was starting to pop. The small group that were surrounding them and watching with curiosity was making Clara feel very awkward.

"I thought you were dead." He reached up suddenly and grabbed her chin, more careful than what she had prepared for. Thomas moved her face up so he could better see it. His face softened, lips relaxed. "You're still beautiful. Though, I'm not totally surprised to see you are alive." The taller man took a small step forward and chuckled.

Clara's nerves were on edge. Any minuet now the coin will flip and he will lash out. It was who he was, why he lead and the others followed. His dark eyes connected with hers.

"You are dangerous, as are most beautiful things in this world. You have not found me for a heartfelt reunion, I am going to listen to what you have to say." Thomas' grip tightened painfully, yet his facade remained calm. He leaned down and spoke directly into her ear. Clara could feel the stubble on his face chaff her cheek. "Let's pray our discussion is worthy of my time, otherwise I shall slice you from belly to throat and leave you for walker bait."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just having a lil bit of fun. **

The prison grew quiet at these times, the silence was deafening. Made it feel more empty. It had been months since she left. Daryl refused to say her name or think it. He just worked, hunting and volunteering to do runs. At first he'd hoped to see her or some sign of the blonde, but after a few weeks he realized it wasn't going to happen.

Rick and him had scowered the small hills and land surrounding the prison. They'd found the traces of a large encampment a few miles down the road, hidden now so subtly past a treeline. The LO's were gone, and her with them, Daryl was just hell bent and blood raged. He knew he'd regret not going after her. Now she was long gone and he was…well he didn't know what he was right now.

It was early morning and he was about to set out for his habitual hunt. He had everything ready to go, but just like every morning he found himself staring towards the direction of the road. The man bit the inside of his lip harshly as he spurred himself on. The early signs of winter were setting in, the chill in the air made his lungs tighten.

The woods were quiet but it was home. Hours drug past as he seen fewer and fewer animals to shoot. Around noon he returned and set the few doves and squirrels on Carol's cutting board. The older woman gave him a knowing look and nodded her thanks. Daryl met her eyes for a brief second before moving on. He cut through the lunch crowd down stairs and went straight to his room.

He didn't have much to say lately. Too many sympathetic glances, apparently the whole prison had heard his breakdown after he'd gotten her note. He'd talk with Rick about what needed done, but that was about it. He avoided Hershel and the Greene girls like the plague. Despite the fact they weren't any relation to the girl, they seemed as if they'd lost one of their own. Hershel seemed sadder around the eyes and Beth furiously practiced on the guitar…as if it would bring her back.

Daryl sat on his bed and felt the folded paper in his vest weighing him down. That sick feeling bubbled into his chest as he fought to keep his composure. Where was she? Was she alive? Had she gotten the group to leave or had she decided on just staying away? This was why he had told her not to do this on her own. He was going insane not knowing something. If she was dead he could bury her. If she had abandoned him, he could let her go… But he was in limbo.

Daryl's dark blue eyes closed as he exhaled and scratched his head. But a small part of him he kept away from even himself, still hoped. Hoped she'd return and make good on her word. That she missed him as much he missed her. Hell if nothing else she needed to return for Hershel, Beth and Maggie's sakes. He was well embedded with strength to get over a pretty face, but that woman was more than a pretty face. She…she was strong and sure of herself. She was the closest thing he'd ever found to compatibility.

A loud banging sound roused him from his mid day thinking. The lunch bell echoed through the prison. He sighed and stood, leaving his crossbow on his bed. Daryl collected himself and put his face on. Untouchable and stone. When he collected himself some food, his eyes met Beth's as she baby talked to Judith. Beth's wide blue eyes shown with a touch softness and she smiled. Daryl returned the half-hearted smile and sought out Rick.

The men went through the motions, discussing inventory and the usual. Daryl was on auto pilot, nodding and taking notes to hand off to Glenn later on. As they were wrapping up and about to go their separate ways, Rick stopped him from walking away. The hunter groaned, knowing full well what Rick was doing.

"How are you?" The question was simple but poignant. Rick's voice was even but he let it drop a little, letting him know what was said was between the two of them. At Daryl's reluctance to answer, Rick shook his head knowingly. "I'm not tryin to pry, but I don't want you losing faith in Clara.."

The mention of her named visibly made Daryl's eye twitch. The two men looked at the floor, Rick was waiting for an answer though. Daryl fell into the defensive nature he was known for.

"I'm fine. She made 'er choice." His voice was sharp and he shifted his weight onto his other leg. "I ain't lost faith, I jus' don't see the point holdin' my breath." His body was rigid, Rick respectfully backed away a bit. He put his hand on Daryl's shoulder and squeezed before letting his arm drop.

"You're like a brother to me Daryl. Just don't go down the rabbit hole, alright? Need you here, focused." And with that Rick walked away. Daryl stood there for a moment to absorb what Rick had said. Don't lose faith? It just pissed him off. How can you keep faith in someone who can just up and leave like that? Rational thinking wasn't his strongest point, but he knew she had good reason.

But until the day he seen her walking back through the gates, he'd steel his heart and keep moving. It's all he knew. Survive. Stay strong. Don't be a pussy. Protect the group.

But as more days passed and small threats were taken care of, the memory of a short blonde with a sharp wit started to take a back burner. Even the Greene's were coming around. More people joined up with their prison group, fences got stronger as did the members who protected it. Daryl was taking regular hunting trips that would have him gone for two or three days at a time until he found something to put on the table. He'd recruited a few others to ease the load of the higher demand.

Gradually he worked his way back into social circles and conversations. He'd taken to spending time with Carl and helping train him with knife usage in close quarter combat. He felt pride as the kid got better and better each day. Grimes Jr, as he'd call him, was always around usually. Helped fill the void he'd been trying to close deep down. Rick certainly wasn't complaining, Judith was walking now and driving him crazy.

Daryl chuckled as the toddler kept Beth and Rick on their toes. Judith was speaking a few words, giggling when she'd out fox her old man and care taker. Beth would give her stern expressions until Rick would wave her off and smile lovingly at the little girl who looked like her dead mother. These days there was always something to keep the mind occupied.

Hershel kept a record of the days, it was well into December. Though there was snow on the ground, it was plenty cold outside. Everyone was bundled up and it was amusing to see everyone freaking out over the chill. But he just…he just kept keepin' on. Only at night time, in his cell did he feel the absence here anymore. His eyes looking at the stacked up boxes and bow case in the corner of his room, covered in a sheet. Her stuff had been moved out of her cell two months ago. They needed the room for the new people.

His throat tightened at the thought. That had been a hard day. Daryl had just gotten back from a hunt when he'd heard the sounds from..Clara's…old cell. His stomach had flipped, he almost ran to see what the hell had been going on. He found Maggie and Beth in there packing up her stuff. They must had just gotten started. As soon as he came in they stopped, eyes wide looking like they were caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

He'd growled at them, telling them he'd do it. The sister's had nodded and shared a look before walking out. He ignored their looks of sympathy. Trying to remain detached he began placing her clothes and odds and ends in old crates. Her room no longer smelled like her. It really was empty, just collecting dust. Blindly he carefully put it away and carried it all to his room. But now, he was able to let his eyes linger over the sheet draped memories.

Daryl was just waiting for something to change. Anything. The memories in his head were getting fuzzy and despite himself, he was starting to lose the vivid mental image behind his eyelids. Sure he could dig a picture of Clara out of her guitar case, but he figured it was better this way.

****This one was a hard one to write, but I like it. Please comment and lemme know what you think. :) ****


	19. Chapter 19

**WARNING: VIOLENCE and SEXUAL situations**

Spring was donning in Alabama as Clara opened her eyes. The morning sunshine was just starting to light up the tent. She closed her eyes again and quietly wished she'd wake to find the man next to her dead. Her breathing evened out as she calmly reopened her eyes and looked beside her. Thomas lay asleep, half naked and without a care in the world. Her stomach turned into ash. Carefully, she begin gathering her clothes on the floor beside her. The chilly air hit her bare chest and hurt her lungs to breath in so sharply.

Mindful not to jostle her ribs, she slowly slipped into her tee shirt. The past few months she'd been taking a beating. The young blonde licked her bottom lip, wincing. He split it yesterday, mad because she hesitated to shoot an innocent man. But that was the normal day for her with Thomas and the LO's. Everyday she'd have to do things that compromised her morality, if not destroyed it. Then she'd get the shit kicked out of her and finally share a bed with the piece of shit.

Her eye twitched as she stood and started putting on her jeans. Clara looked around and grabbed her boots, tucking in the laces and just slipping them on. Two steps towards the entryway of the tent, Thomas spoke up.

"Where you goin'?" A chill ran through her as she tried to suppress the hatred she had for him. She swallowed and forced a smile.

"Was gonna try to surprise you with breakfast in bed but I woke you, I'm sorry baby." She turned to look at him, trying to convey a shy innocence. Thomas studied her, she knew he knew it was bullshit. But he played along.

"How sweet of you, Clara Belle." The man smiled at her and cocked his head as his eyes lingered on her lip. "Hurry up with breakfast or I'll give you and eye to match, baby."

The blonde blinked and smiled, ducking out to hurry and get him his food. Every breath she took she wished him to burn in the depths of hell. So many times they had come close to a walker horde, and every time she'd pray he'd get caught in it. The people here just over looked her now. She never bothered to get to know any of them, she was solely Thomas' girl. They did know however, she got whatever she wanted or needed to make him happy.

Everyone was already stirring around, making coffee and getting something going for breakfast. Clara nodded towards the women who were over fires, stirring or taking orders for what they were expected to get done that day. An older woman, whom she'd heard was named Susan, spotted her and got her a plate ready. She was always doing meals. It's a miracle the woman was alive. She had to be in her 70's. But her weathered and fading green eyes always looked at Clara with pity.

Clara smiled at her and quietly took the camp plate of food from her. On her way back to the tent she grabbed a cup of black coffee and rejoined Thomas. He was dressed and going over maps of the local area. Clara delved back into the part of herself that allowed her to keep her cool.

"Here you go." She said softly as she handed the plate over and he nodded in sarcastic thanks. Her eyes drifted over the map. It was a road map that showed the tri state area, Georgia being one of them. The LO's had moved onto Alabama a few weeks ago. Her heart dropped to her stomach. Georgia. She blinked a few times before clearing her thoughts. Push it down. Can't think about them.

So, she began her daily duties. Clara collected the dirty clothes and got them ready to be washed. As she bent over to pick up one of his shirts, Thomas came up behind her and rested his hands on her hips. She froze. Slowly he hooked his thumbs in her belt loops and ground her into his crotch. Venom coursed through her veins.

"You know, I never get tired of doing this to you." His voice sounded sickeningly sincere.

"You mean with me right?" Clara chirped, shooting a look behind her. Her face was impassive.

The man smirked and ran one hand down over her jeans, resting it on the seams below her zipper. She played along and leaned back into him, trying to avoid a new bruise or cut. Clara then hissed as he used his other hand to knot itself into her hair and jerk her back harshly. The hand on her jeans gripped tightly, bringing tears to her eyes.

"No, to you. I don't care if you enjoy it or not." His nails dug into her scalp and he threw her on the bed, smile never dropping from his face. Clara watched him as if she was a tortured dog, too tired to fight anymore. The tall, dark haired man lowered himself onto the bed and pinned her down.

"I don't give a shit about you. I never have." He grabbed her by the throat and pressed a bruising kiss to her mouth. "But what i do care about is the pleasure I get from breaking you over...and over..."

The 19 year old closed her eyes and drifted away. She felt him pawing at her, biting and getting his pound of flesh. When he would do this, she taught herself to just float away. Think of early mornings in the woods, total peace. Blue eyes flashed in her mind and she felt a tear leak out of the corner of her eye. No, no she can't...not right now. But Clara did have one thing she was definitely going to think about. When she would kill Thomas and get the fuck out of here.

Hours later, Clara was washing his laundry. She winced when she bent over to rinse the articles of material out in the creek. Her babysitter, the big guy from months back kept a close eye on her. His name was Ernest, of all things. They never spoke, didn't have to. Clara knew the drill. She hung the shirt on a tree branch and went back to her thoughts.

Despite her shitty predicament, she felt accomplished. She'd gotten Thomas to divert his eyes from the prison. Convinced him it was just a nightmare waiting to happen, and if he left it alone she'd go along with him...willingly. Be whatever he wanted. Clara didn't expect it to work, but it had. Within a few days they were on the road. But the whole time she felt herself being further ripped apart.

Clara hung up another shirt, then grabbed a pair of his jeans. The original plan was to bail out after they had gotten a ways off from the prison, but then he'd make comments. Ones such as if she went missing he'd make sure the prison burned, that he wasn't stupid. She had people there she cared about, he'd seek them out and kill them.

Her jaw clenched as she scrubbed harder.

Then before she had known it, Winter was in full force. With each passing day she felt herself growing more detached from her emotions. It hurt to much being gone this long. Clara was afraid that one day when she did return, everyone would be either dead or gone. That familiar fire spread through her as she hung the pants up and signaled to Ernest she was done,

Clara knew she was going to get out soon, and not before sending Thomas to meet whatever God he believed in. It would be slow and he would suffer terribly. A smile ghosted her lips as she followed the big guy back to the encampment. Her hazel eyes looked around at all the faces which surrounded her. Surely, some of these people hated him as much as she did. Then quietly, a plan started coming together in her head. Soon, hopefully, she would be heading home.

The blonde walked into the tent was happy to see Thomas gone. Ernest posted up outside. Clara took a deep breath and eyed the map on the makeshift table. Again, she smiled faintly. It was born from a dark place. She was born a nice girl, tried to stay that way through fame and even through the start of the end of the world. But now, she would have to let that inner animal out. Despite her hatred of Thomas, she knew once that cage was opened he wouldn't be the only one dead. Innocent people were probably going to die too...but she needed to go home.


	20. Chapter 20

***I own nothing...sadly.***

****To those of you who are reading this story and have Favorited/ Followed...thank you so much. :) ****

The air of spring had him feeling stir crazy. It even made the prison smell different, lighter. Sun wasn't quite up yet so Daryl took his time becoming alert and letting his eyes wake up from the restful night he'd had. The man took a moment to stretch and lay there in his bed. It was warm. He felt an ease with his surroundings and made his way to his feet.

The moment he slipped his boots on he heard the shuffling of feet a few cells from him. Dominic and Lou were ready to go. They were the other hunters now. The prison had every bit of 30 head now. The two guys weren't the best, but they got lucky more than not. Daryl took a deep breath and prepared himself for a morning of scouting. Spring was here so hopefully more prey had wondered into the area.

Within minuets the three men had formulated a plan and set out. The familiar woods gave him comfort as he quietly passed through, looking for fresh trails and signs. Hours passed and the sun came up, midday kicked in and the group joined up at the fence. All and all the pickins weren't great but they'd do. Some birds, squirrels and a possum. As Daryl scratched his head, Lou perked up. He was a tall linky man, red hair and pale skin. Originally from Wisconsin.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm no professional hunter but I think there's a group of hogs in the area." The idea alone made Daryl's mouth water.

"God I hope so. Wherea bout?" He asked the ginger. Lou pointed towards the ridge he had his permanent stand on.

"About two hundred yards below the ridge where the swampy area is. Grounds all tore up and there's a bunch of small saplings broke over."

Daryl nodded then motioned towards the prison.

"Alrigh' then. Yall wanna check it out this evenin'? We'll head back out after dinner."

Dominic nodded then made a face. He was a mexican guy from Alabama. Had been a financial consultant before the outbreak, but he was tough as nails. Stocky but refined.

"I would, but I'm pullin' fence duty with Sasha and Tyreese tonight."

That settled that then. The three men returned and handed the game off to Carol and a few others as they started processing it. They split up and Daryl went looking for Rick, he'd asked him last night to meet him in the Library when he got back today. It wasn't a surprise to find him in the company of Hershel and his eldest. They were busy leaning over maps and papers on the table.

Daryl set his bow down and shut the door behind him. Rick's face looked focused and Hershel gave the hunter a nod in welcome. "Come on in Daryl."

The air in the room made him tense, and the look on Maggie's face didn't help. Her lips were raw from chewing them and her eyes were darting all over the stuff laid out on the table.

When Rick finally spoke up, his voice was too calm.

"Glenn and Michonne got in this morning while yall were out. They'd taken a scouting group west a week ago…"

Daryl shrugged and felt his patience wearing thin. "And? They find the chupacabra or somethin'?" His voice and his sarcasm left the group unphased. Hershel gave Rick a cautionary look and sat down in a chair.

"Glenn and Michonne think they might have come across the remnants of a group. Big and organized. Been abandoned a while but they found a truck…Michonne identified it."

Maggie stopped fidgeting and watched Daryl closely. They were all quiet. Daryl blinked a few times and tried to think. It slowly sank in, it felt as if he was slowly being submerged into ice water. His lungs constricted and his body went rigid.

"Michonne is sure?" He asked, it was almost a growl. As if lightening had came through the prison and hit him he jerked. Anger, sadness, fear…all hit him at once. Rick crossed his arms and his voice was a little desperate.

"What are you thinkin' brother?"

Daryl was wondering the same thing. What was he thinking? The group had probably passed through months ago, going further south for winter. A sick feeling wound itself through him.

"I dunno." He was still as he looked at the other three in the room. Then his voice rose. " I dunno!"

Maggie winced and went back to pacing. Hershel stood back up and supported himself with his cane. The old man had finally gotten Daryl to talk about the missing blonde a few weeks ago. It had given him some peace and he tried not to dwell on it anymore. At first he felt as if he was betraying Clara, but he realized he had a role to play here. Had a job to do as Hershel always told people.

"This isn't easy for any of us. Not knowing, but it gives us hope. She's probably still alive, son." The old man's voice did little to soothe him, but he swallowed a lump in his throat.

"Why ya askin' me?" He didn't care that he sounded unsure, cause Daryl had so much swimming around in his head right now. His memory of Clara had gone hazy but he remembered how it felt around her. The companionship, the understanding way she'd not push him yet she was firm. His heart shivered. He hadn't noticed Rick coming to stand next to him.

"Because, we thought you'd wanna know…maybe…I don't know, take a group out and look for signs?" He sighed and rubbed his eyes but refocused. "Its a shot in the dark, but if it were me…knowing I could see Lori again…Id run like hell." For a moment Rick's voice was raw with honesty and made Daryl lift his eyes and look at the leader of this home.

Hell yes he wanted to pack up now and leave, but he wasn't wanting to go and find nothing. Daryl couldn't handle that. He was protecting himself and the group needed him strong. Plus it was risky, what if something happened and he wasn't here? Or if he found her and she rejected him. Or worse, was wandering around feeding off dead bodies?

The silence grew heavy and Hershel spoke again.

"We just wanted to tell you what we knew. Give you perspective. I would be a fool to think that its not risky. But the option is there."

The hunter felt like a child, scared and unsure. His eyes remained hard but inside he was breaking all over again. She'd told him to stay away. She'd be back. He had to have faith, but that was hard to do knowing what he did now. The finally Maggie spoke up, tears in her eyes.

"If it were Glenn, Id go through hell and high water…but it's been months." She ignored the looks her father and Rick gave her and continued. "When you…care about someone that much it changes you. She left because she wanted to protect us, I feel like if you leave here you're making her efforts in vain." Maggie wiped her eyes, not enjoying what she said. Her heart was broke too, for them and for Daryl.

He just stood still, letting everything soak in. Maggie was right, too. It was dangerous and either way it would hurt. With all his heart and soul he wanted to get on the trail and hunt her down. But he also knew he was needed here. Sure they had people helping him share the burden, but he was a leader of sorts too. The foreman of the woods.

Daryl reigned in his emotions and took a deep breath. "Thanks for tellin' me, but I got a job ta do. Clara'd want me to do that." His voice was calm, but strained. He grabbed his bow and walked out. He felt the tightness in his chest as he made his way up to his cell.

Daryl hadn't missed the slight disappointment in Rick's eyes. It hurt to see, but Maggie was right. He had to be strong. He was needed and it had been months. The moment he entered his cell, the man sat on his bed.

Daryl put the crossbow beside him and rested his elbows on his knees. Emotions whirled like a twister inside him. He felt like a sorry sonuvabitch. Hated himself. Hated her. Breaking the silence he lashed out and punched the wall beside him. The loud thud hadn't drawn any attention.

Moisture fogged his vision for a minute, but he forced it down. He'd not lost faith, he was just willing to put the ghost to rest. Daryl knew he'd never be the same, Clara had came into his life and uprooted him. Didn't even mean to shake him up, but she did. He'd always bleed over her…but he wouldn't want her miserable. Never want her lost and unsure. The ugly truth was he had to forget. Purposly he avoided looking at the corner in his room, focusing on his bleeding knuckles.

The day had flipped on its side again and cut him deep. After an hour of sitting still and breathing, Daryl got up and continued on. Face conveying no emotions and all business. It's how Dixons survived.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Just pulling the strings a wee bit.**

**WARNING: GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND SEXUAL THEMES**

A week had passed and the weather was perfect. It had rained a few days ago, but right now was golden. Clara had used her time wisely to talk to Susan, the old woman who always cooked. There had been more than what meets the eye with the gray haired woman. Clara had struck up an unexpected alliance, and in doing so got the allegiance of other members too. The number and identity of those members were unknown though.

But she didn't care how many people were planning on siding with her, today she'd get her freedom and start back home. Or end up dead, which was still freedom. The blonde had woken up early and fetched Thomas breakfast first thing. When she retrieved his breakfast plate, Susan had snuck a knife to her under the plate. It was serrated too. Clara wasn't taking any chances, she wanted all wounds to be beyond repairable.

Oddly enough, she was very calm. An odd sense of peace had settled in her bones, even with knowing how badly she could screw this up. The blonde tucked the knife into her boot and walked into their tent. He was waking up now, wiping sleep from his eyes.

"Here's breakfast, baby." Clara said sweetly, adding a smile. Thomas eyed her and then the plate of food in her hands. He grunted his approval and she approached. Clara crouched down and placed it in his lap above the blanket. He took a smell and began to dig in. She eyed him, realizing he'd be dead in a few minuets. Something inside her head opened and she smiled brightly. Thomas seen this and stopped eating.

"What are you so fucking happy about?" The man wasn't amused totally, but very curious. His dark brownish black eyes studied her face.

"Nothing really, I just think I'm finally getting it." Her feline smile softened and she let her eyelids seem heavy. Thomas wasn't buying it, so she upped her game.

"Well, I've been trying to behave lately...I just woke up this morning with a need to make you happy." Her hazel eyes shyly scanned his face, but her stomach churned. He didn't have much to say, still trying to figure her out. "Ya know what they say, can't beat em..join em."

Not to piss him off yet, Clara gently took his unfinished plate from him and jerked the blankets down. He was naked from last night, but she didn't care. He disgusted her. She could also deal with it one more last time. Thomas shivered as the air hit his skin. Clara smiled and crawled into his lap, straddling his thighs. Her small hands running over the planes of his muscular chest.

Thomas grabbed her wrists painfully and put some distance between them.

"What are you up to?"

Fear hit her for a second but she kept her poker face.

"Thomas...really?" She made herself sound exasperated. "I know you enjoy being rough but...wouldn't you like to have me willing and wet.." When his grip eased a bit, she leaned into him some more and let her lips brush his ear. "Moaning and shaking below you..."

She smiled as she felt him twitch below her. Stupid asshole. Clara put her game face on and ground into him. Thomas sucked in a breath and moved his hands to her hips, rocking her. Clara's jean shorts protected her luckily.

"So you want to play along?" His voice was deep and husky. The blonde leaned back and nodded, punctuating her act with another grind to his member. Thomas didn't hesitate and brought her in, kissing her hard. She ignored the bile rising in her throat and kissed him back for once. He groaned and fisted her hair.

Clara was thinking. She needed him to drop his arms, his neck needed to be open for attack. So she got creative and untangled herself from his hands. Thomas looked upset but she swooped in and latched onto his neck. The man shivered as she sucked and bit him roughly.

In the shadows of the tent she felt herself slip away. The young woman she was took a backseat and let the killer take the wheel. She thought of Manny. Her best friend being tortured and murdered because he was close to her. Clara thought of Zach. The tears Beth had cried over her young love being taken away from her. The whole Greene family, the prison...Daryl. her body was shaking with pent up rage Thomas was mistaking for want.

Carefully she allowed his mouth to assault her as he flipped them over and ripped her thin shirt open, exposing her white bra. He stopped for a moment when he looked into her eyes. Thomas smiled.

"You really are an animal, look at you." The satisfied smirk on his face made her grin. When he began placing bites over her collar bone she wrapped her legs around his waist. He smiled once more against her skin and ground into her like a horny teenager.

Inside she was a volcano, wanting burn it all down. Smooth enough for him not to notice she reached into her boot and withdrew the knife. Her heart began pounding. The handle of the blade felt like redemption. Clara opened her eyes and used her free hand to grab his jaw and bring his eyes level with hers.

"Baby, you have no idea." In one swift motion she drug the knife across his throat. His eyes were wide in shock. Satisfaction written all over Clara's face as his blood gushed onto her. His empty gasp made her writhe in pleasure as his windpipe was torn open.

"Before you die I want you to know you are a piece of shit and I really wanted to draw this out... this is the only mercy you'll know because you are going to rot in hell." Her voice was a growl as she watched his face drain of color and the life fade from his eyes. Clara snarled and pushed him off, laying there covered in his blood. She didn't care.

After a second she took the knife and drove it through his eye, making sure to hit the brain. The blond stood and admired her work for a moment before getting her plan back on track. Despite the humming of adrenaline in her veins she had to get some stuff together. Quickly the girl piled a few pistols and MREs into a black duffel bag. She found her machete and grabbed the maps which shown their location and where they had been camped when she joined up months ago.

As she fumbled around she realized she'd done it. Her captor was dead and she was going home. Nobody would mourn Thomas. He had been a tyrant. Clara grabbed a few articles of her clothing and stuffed them in the bag as well. Her instincts were on high alert as she shuffled around in the tent looking for anything to grab in a hurry. Once she was satisfied, Clara took a deep breath and walked out as if it were another day. She wasn't stupid though, she had one of the pistols in her right hand. But her arm dangled at her side casually. Nobody else here posed a threat to her.

When the sunlight hit her, gasps and all movement stopped. The short blonde looked around and took a deep breath. Ernest, her babysitter, gawked and she smiled.

"Yeah he's dead." She wiped at her face and remembered she was covered in blood. She giggled, she must look like Carrie. But then she got very serious and shouted her peace to everyone. "I killed that piece of shit. I intend no harm on everyone else. I just would like to take a car and get out of here."

All the members looked to one another and remained quiet. Clara found Susan staring at her, nodding her approval.

"I'm going home." Clara shouted and began making her way to Susan. The old woman looked at her and stood, motioning to the blue Focus on the road.

"I got you the keys from Ernest. He's really a good guy."

Clara looked back to the huge man, and he smiled. She felt her chest squeeze and then she gave her attention back to the older woman.

"Would you wanna go with me? It's a great group of people, nobody would hit you or push you aside. There's shelter and safety." The young woman's whispered pleas sounded desperate. But Susan shook her head and wrapped Claras hands with her frail ones.

"I'm too old, sweetheart. I'd hold you back. Go home and be careful." Susan smiled and Clara swallowed the lump in her throat. With a final glance and a wave to Ernest, she ran to the car.

It was full on gas and she started it up. The duffel bag sat shot gun, and she spread the map out on top. Clara knew it would still yet be a few days before she was home, but she would get home. She would see her Greene family. She would wake up in a cell surrounded by concrete walls, and she would be close to Daryl again.

Daryl. Her eyes prickled with tears as she let a few fall. The car reversed and she headed out. Would he still miss her? Would he hate her? Then a large stone settled in her stomach...would he still be alive? Clara shook the thought off. Of course he would, he was too stubborn to die. She gave a small smile watching the scenery rush by.

Day gave way into night, but she was still on half a tank. She got a few hours of sleep and then hit the asphalt again. By the map, she only had about 100 miles to go roughly. With every mile she felt her stomach knotting. When she passed the Georgia state line she allowed herself a deep breath. But still yet, Clara was in the far recesses of her mind. The hunter in her still maintained the wheel. She still wasn't safe yet. The killer would let go once she was within the gates of the prison. Safe.

As the morning came and she was a few miles away from the place where the LOs had the map marked with their old location, the car sputtered to a stop. Empty. Clara growled but didn't hesitate with hopping out and gathering her things. The dried blood still clung to her in the cool morning air, flaking off in bits and pieces. The blonde didn't care. It was a badge of honor. Victory. The animalistic joy from a successful kill. Her shirt was still torn open and her bra still exposed, she didn't wanna scare everyone when she got back.

Clara rooted around in her bag and drew out a much too large long sleeve flannel and put it on. She tied it tightly at the bottom below her breasts and put her machete on her belt. The pistol was tucked into the back if her jean shorts and she started making her way through the woods.

Clara's hazel eyes scanned the woods around her, ears tuned in for anything that wasn't natural. A few hours passed when she finally found the old encampment. Her stomach fluttered. She'd be home by night fall. Her boots were quiet as she put the map away and knew by heart where she was. As she rounded a small hill that hid old deer trails, the tell tale noises of walkers put her on high alert.

About 20 yards ahead stood a walker, so she laid her bag down and moved forward. Her steady fingers unsnapped the button which held her machete to her. The girl raised it ready to strike.

The blade was duller than normal so it took a second swipe, but the body hit the ground with a thud. She doubled back and grabbed her bag, moving forward once more.

The sun was starting to hang a little lower in the sky when she reached the graveled road that lead to the prison's front gates. Just another mile or two she told herself as she ignored the physical exhaustion that had started settling into her bones.

**I really hope this translates well. **

**I was a bit unsure but figured I needed to be a little raw with this.**

**Thanks for reading and PLEASE give me some feedback. **

**I love ****reading what you guys have to say and what you think. 3 **


	22. Chapter 22

The prison was up and going full force. Rick had people getting the ground tilled up, preparing the gardens for spring planting. The cement building looked alive. Green fauna was popping up everywhere. Daryl watched everyone around him moving and living. The occasional laugh would float up to him from below as he kept watch from the guard tower. The man leaned against the railing, watching some of the kids play and run around.

It had been a week since Rick had dropped the atom bomb on him about Clara. He gritted his teeth and lit a cigarette, resting his rifle beside him. Damnit, he had just gotten to a place where it didn't hurt to breath. It was bad enough he felt like a pussy for being so tore up, but if it had been anyone else…they'd have been a mess too. Even Merle. Merle would have understood in his own way how different the girl was. Sure he would have made jabs at him, but a few shots in he would have given him a pat on the shoulder.

The hunter felt the hot of the day leaving as he squinted. The fence seemed fine. Everyone was getting work done. Today it started like normal, woke up and got in a early hunt then got back. Dominic and Lou were loaning their hands to Carol as she supervised the crew building shelves outside for herbs and small plants. He would bet she was putting them through their paces.

Daryl took a heavy drag on the cigarette and gave a half ass nod to Rick as he waved. Daryl felt a tinge of guilt, his friend had been worried about him. Deciding not to go out looking for clues for Clara had surprised him. Rick later conceded that it was for the best he stay put. Commented on how the hick had changed. Daryl admitted if it had been a year ago he'd have run away blind with fury. Then again, a year ago he didn't think Clara would have had the same effect on him.

Daryl's dark blue eyes scanned over everything, happy the walkers were just now starting to overcome the chill of the past winter. The cold weather had slowed them down, which had been a welcome reprieve. When his eyes moved on they fell to the wood line. Something was moving. Hairs on the back of his neck stood up in the sun. He tossed his smoke aside and picked the rifle up.

He looked down the scope to try and see the movement better. Slowly he watched a hand reach out through the tree line. He furrowed his brows and waited as the body stepped out. There was blood all over it. The first thing that grabbed his attention was the fact the 'walker' was holding a machete. Walkers didn't do that. Then he centered the cross hairs on her face, and his heart dropped yet burst through his chest simultaneously. Even covered in blood, he knew that face. Though it had been months, he knew that face.

All at once he was frozen to his spot and trying to think. He watched her a second more as she lifted her hand to block the evening sun from her eyes. She was staggering and he could tell she was exhausted, her limp ever present. She was home. Clara. As if jolted, he threw down the rifle and ran for the stairs. As soon as his feet touched dirt he ran like hell, grabbing Rick on his way by the sleeve.

"C'MON!"

Ricks panic instantly set in.

"What is it? Walkers?" The leader asked looking around, trying to see what Daryl was running towards. He caught up to him and Daryl was not responding. Rick was worried maybe the heat had gotten to him when they reached the chain link fence.

Daryl started undoing the ties that held the gate together and he looked at Rick, in crazy desperation.

"It's Clara! Help me open the god damn gate!" Daryl watched Rick look out at the road. He seen her, walking out from the tree line…machete in hand. He almost didn't believe it until Daryl snapped at him. "Hurry up!"

Daryl felt as if he was going to wake up at any given second. He prayed it wasn't a dream. His heart was pounding in his chest as he and Rick swung the gate open. Daryl bolted out as fast as he could. He couldn't hear what Rick was saying, or other people wanting to know what was going on. His eyes were watching the blonde stagger towards him. Then she seen him. Their eyes met and she stopped.

"Daryl?" She asked, the sound washing over him as she was just yards from him. He watched as her eyes watered and she used whatever she had left to close the gap between them. She was enveloping him. Sinking in to him. Consuming him. Daryl shuddered as she wrapped herself around him. He picked her up and just allowed himself a moment. His breaths were ragged and her's was as well.

The hunter's throat was tight as he buried his face into her neck. Clara's sobs wracked her body as she fell apart in his embrace. But the sound of walkers moving in made him spring into action. He ran back tot he gate and let Rick shoulder the responsibility of getting it shut. People were walking down to gander at the spectacle.

Daryl didn't give a shit. He was partially afraid any given second he was going to wake up and she'd be gone. But the harder he squeezed her, the harder she squeezed back. All the months of being alone, having lost faith in her made him angry with himself. She came back. Clara was home. No words could be said, and she didn't speak either. Clara just kept her body wrapped around his and cried.

After a few precious moments passed, Clara calmed herself enough to pull back from him and touch his face. He memorized every detail of this moment. She was beautiful, even covered in blood and dirt. But her hazel eyes looked different. They scanned him while he marveled at her. His right hand came up to cup her face, still struggling for words. Then finally he managed a few.

"I missed ya too." They were a whisper, but Clara nodded and leaned into his touch. Despite the fact he was beside himself with elation from her return, he seen the changes in her. She felt lighter than before, her muscles were still solid though. But the light in her eyes wasn't the same. More guarded than before. Slowly, he let her down and she clung onto his side. Daryl looked for Rick who was standing by, tears in his other man shook his head and didn't wait, giving Clara a hug she gladly reciprocated.

Rick pulled away and kissed her forehead, touching her cheek then smiling as he wiped his. "I thought we'd never see you again girl." Clara caught her breath and sniffled, giving him a tired but happy smile.

"I made a promise." Her eyes went to meet Daryl's and his chest swelled with pride. Rick nodded and looked her over, both men noticing exactly how bad Clara was.

"Jesus, let's get ya' inside." Daryl grunted as he picked her up. He took steady careful steps, glad Rick opened the metal doors for him. Daryl didn't know what was happening around him because his focus was the woman in his arms. Clara's arms were tightly around his neck and she shuddered for some reason before pulling herself in tighter. Rick ran to get the Greene's as soon as they had reached his room.

Daryl gently laid her down on his bed and took her hand. Clara hadn't said too much, she just stared at him. Tears silently fell, but she grasped his hand as if she'd never let it go again.

"I'm okay, just had a rough time.." Her voice was low but sure. Daryl kept touching her face and arms to assure himself she was there. She must have sensed it because she touched his face again, pulling his forehead down to hers. "I'm okay now, you got me. I'm safe." Her words broke and she smiled the saddest smile he'd ever seen. Whatever happened to her had her really shaken up.

"That's righ', I got you." He murmured, closing his eyes. His gut twisted. "Wish I could have been there to protect you." Daryl meant every word, and Clara knew it. She let out a breath and pulled back a little, squeezing his hand.

"I'm glad you weren't though, I never want you to see me like that." She shook and looked down at herself. "I'm here and that's all that matters."

He wanted to argue with her, but the rushed footsteps thundered though the prison. The blonde haired youngest Greene was the first to fly in. She froze when she saw Clara though, and Maggie behind her. Beth's big blue eyes watered and looked at Daryl, as if asking it was okay. Daryl nodded, moving to let the girls in.

He had to give them some space, those women were like sisters. He came to the doorway, fighting the urge to not want to leave her side. She was safe here, in his room. His jealousy was put down the moment Clara reached out for Beth. The two girls, close in age, cried and held onto one another. Clara was whispering things to her and Beth would nod then whisper back. Maggie patiently waited her turn, finally Beth let her in then the brunette gave her a hug.

Daryl took a deep breath and never took his eyes off her. It still felt like it wasn't real. That weight he'd been carrying around for months was gone and he couldn't think clearly. He didn't care. A firm hand on his shoulder spooked him and Hershel's faded blue eyes smiled at him and watched the three women cry and hug. The gray haired man was emotional too, tears brimming his eyes and his grip never leaving Daryl.

Hershel closed his eyes and bowed his head as he said a silent prayer before standing by, waiting his turn.

"Hey Doc." Clara's voice called softly and the Greene Girls stood and made room for their father to sit down. Hershel took a deep breath and grabbed Clara's hand. Daryl noted how she suddenly looked almost ashamed and sorry. Hershel shook his head and squeezed her hand.

"I don't care what happened out there Clara, you're home and we missed you so much." The old man's voice broke and she pulled him in tightly, crying as hard as she did on him. Daryl knew she really did see Hershel as a father figure.

They held onto each other for a few minuets before her voice spoke again. "I did horrible things. I'm sorry. But I just..I..couldn't imagine.." The strong woman was a girl and the man a father. Daryl listened to him console her over and over again. After a while, the girls filed out and Hershel gave Clara a sedative. Within minuets the blonde was asleep and he wiped his face.

"Thank God." Was the only thing Hershel said for a moment before standing and looking at Daryl. The hunter nodded and smiled for the first time in a long while. He shook the old mans hand and waited for the old timer to speak.

"She's partially in shock. From what I could see the blood isn't hers. Clara needs rest, but when she wakes she'll need to eat and drink lots of water. I'll also need to do a full examination…" Hershel seemed very unsure for a second. "I'm honestly scared what I'll find." Fear seemed to find its way into Daryl's nerves and he swallowed it. Clara was here and he could get her through anything.

"She's tough, she's got us. I doubt she fought through whatever jus' ta get here an' fall apart." His voice didn't waver as he watched her sleep.

"I know son, just keep an eye on her. Holler if you need me." Hershel took his leave and Daryl didn't waste any time. He shifted her over gently and crawled in behind her. She fit perfectly against him and the concrete wall. His arms wrapped around her protectively. So long he'd want to wrap her up, be alone with her.

His eyes closed and he buried them in her dirty hair. She smelled like death and sweat. He welcomed it, because it was her. Daryl remembered before she left how he'd fought himself on her. He'd had no idea one day she'd be gone. Clara missing was the worst pain of his life. Daryl was a realist, no he wasn't some Romeo but she wasn't a Juliet either. They'd argue and get in over their heads but they'd have each other. He'd help her heal and get her back on track to herself. When she was ready for Daryl, he'd be there.

**AHHH! *happy girl squeal* **


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: I own nothing TWD.**

There was a shift behind her. Clara took a deep breath and dug her face deeper into the mostly flattened pillow. When she inhaled, she was relieved to know she really was home. The warmth at her back was the other reminder. Carefully she lifted her right arm to find Daryl's arm. It was wrapped around her snug. With the lightest of touches, she gripped his wrist and she rested her arm on his. Confirming his grip on her. The movement made his grumble something in his sleep, but he tightened his arm. Now Clara realized, she was flush against him.

Despite the panic that tickled at the back of her mind of close contact, she tried calming herself down. This was Daryl, not Thomas. Daryl would never hurt her. He'd never force himself onto her, or beat her for no reason. Clara would never have to lock her mind away. She'd never have to kill him, she'd never enjoy killing him. The blonde took a deep breath, too shaky for her liking. When she exhaled, Daryl softly spoke behind her.

"It'll get better, jus' keep remindin' yourself. Ain't nobody gonna get you here." The gruff voice made his point by gently shaking her in his arms. What Clara deciphered was, 'They'll never take you from me.' She wished she could make him understand, it wasn't them that scared her. It was herself. She didn't remember how she got back mostly. Clara remembered hearing Daryl's voice and suddenly she was running towards him. That terrified her. So not to worry Daryl, Clara nodded and closed her eyes. They hadn't moved at all.

"I killed him." Her voice was barely a whisper. His fingers twitched on her stomach, but he remained where he was. Calm. "I had wanted to come back a long time ago, but..I couldn't risk it." She licked her lips and opened her eyes, staring at the concrete wall in front of her face. "Spring broke and I knew it was now or never. I planned, I went through back up plans. Found a few allies." Susan and Ernest's faces flittered through her mind. "Then I killed him. I tore into his throat with a steak knife. And I loved it." Suddenly her voice cracked and she bent into herself.

Without hesitation, Daryl rolled her and enveloped her in a way she never thought the man was capable of. Yes she knew he was caring and passionate, showed some moments of being unguarded...but he was surrounding her. Clara's eyes were sore but the tears and the small sobs ripped themselves from her body. He held onto her as if he was trying to hold together all the cracked pieces that didn't show. Daryl didn't say nothing, he just let her fall apart. The things Thomas did to her had indeed made marks so deep they'd never close, but what bothered her the most was she felt like part of her humanity was gone. She'd practically bathed herself in his death and walked away grinning.

Clara's arms were pinned between them, but she managed to fist the material of his shirt. This was real. This is what she'd fought for. Her sacrifices were well worth it. That's what she'd have to remind herself from here on out. There had never been a spoken vow of love or commitment between the hunters, but she knew how she felt. Obviously he'd missed her. The look on his face proved to her there was indeed more between them...but it was going to take a long time. Fear streaked itself hot and fresh through her chest. Was it fair of her to expect him to wait while she licked her wounds? They could die any day. The blonde bit into her lips as she shook.

"Breath Clara, I got ya." He whispered to her, tucking her under his chin and rubbing circles on her back. She could feel him trying to keep relaxed, knowing she knew he knew she was tuning into his body language. Without another word, she nodded and tried to focus on just him. The smell of Daryl, the warmth and the hard muscles. It was safe. She knew her killer seemed to purr under in his presence. Clara was caged around him, and that was good. Daryl was saying more to her, but her eye lids became heavier than her self control. Soon, sleep had a grip on her and she drifted back off.

Sunlight woke Clara. It was bright and seemed to be pulling her from the haze of sleep. The familiar sounds of people talking and moving around the prison made her pause. She took a moment to enjoy in the sensation. Home. Slowly she opened her eyes and seen Daryl sitting in a chair beside the bed. He was cleaning the field tips on some arrows. His face was placid as he studied his work. When he looked up to check on her, he gave a small smile when his eyes met hers.

"Hey." She whispered, feeling alone with him being so far away. Her jaw tightened, realizing she couldn't use him as a crutch. She had to keep her head on. He cared for her but he wasn't meant for supporting someone so fully. But damn, he was sure looking at her as if that's what he wanted.

"Evenin'." His statement surprised her and she looked out the small barred window above them. Indeed, it was at least 1 or 2 in the afternoon. "You slept lika rock. Didn't wanna bother you. Stayed close jus' in case though." Daryl looked down at the cloth in his hands before sticking the arrows back into what she recognized to be her quiver..then tossed it to his small table. Well, he was still the same Daryl thankfully.

"Thanks." Clara gently threw her legs over the side and went to stand, before dizziness hit her and she quickly decided against it. "Damnit."

Daryl scooted up to sit in front of her and grabbed her gimp leg. "Your muscles are exhausted. You've slept but you must have really done yourself in. They are pretty damn tense." His rough fingers kneaded into the tops of her thigh and down to her calve. For minuets he didn't say much. Would just make a grunt or sigh as he felt the muscles give. Clara would wince but knew it would help her in the long run.

"Hershel wanted me to get him once ya woke up..." The way the older man said it, like he wanted to know if that was okay. Clara met his blue eyes and she nodded. Daryl stood and left the chair there, he took a few strides then stopped. He turned to look at her, making sure she was there, then walking away. Clara hadn't missed it. The fear. She knew it would be a long time until she built the trust back up between them. Daryl Dixon was a tough guy, but his eyes gave him away. She scared him.

After he was out of sight, Clara let the effects take hold for a second. The sick feeling twisting its way though her body made her hurt bone deep. Never had he looked at her before in such a way. She was to blame for his hesitation and his mistrust. Clara felt like she had almost broke him. Her thoughts didn't get to linger for long before Daryl returned with Hershel and the big bag he used for medical what nots.

"Hello Clara." Hershel's smile genuinely reached his eyes as he sat down in the chair previously resided in by Daryl. Clara's hazel ones met his and she gave him a small smile. "How're you feeling?"

The young woman shrugged and looked to Daryl for just a moment, then back to the gray haired man. "Like I have just ran a marathon through hell." She flinched at the seriousness in her voice. Hershel's eyes seemed to quietly understand her, before he cleared his throat and motioned to his bag.

"Would you be comfortable with me checking you over?"

Clara blinked and exhaled. "Of course. Here I'll stand." This time she used the empty bunk above Daryl's to steady herself and she found her footing. Her eyes once again shot to him, then back to the man sitting in front of her. Minuets drug past as Hershel checked her arms and her hands, her neck and her face. She had to almost look away when he'd find the evidence of Thomas' affections. But Hershel's gaze remained objective while he continued on his poking around.

Daryl remained silent, but he watched. Seeming to take note of everything Hershel did. When her father figure dropped his hands he shifted about uncomfortably. Clara knew he wanted to check the rest of her. Without hesitation she motioned to Daryl.

"Hang a sheet up." He looked out and down the hall, before pulling the sheet off her boxed things. Clara hadn't paid much mind to the corner of his room until she seen her bow case and guitar case. He'd kept it all. Guilt hit her again, but when Daryl was done blocking off the rest of the prison she came back to herself.

Hershel gave her a squeeze on her hand before speaking. "I don't have to check Clara, I can have Maggie do it." Clara squeezed back.

"You're family. I trust you." The young woman's voice sounded tiny but he accepted it. Clara's eyes found Daryl looking frozen to his place, unsure of what to do. His battle with himself evident in his eyes and the way he was gnawing his thumb nail. He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he didn't want to leave her either. "Daryl, stay please? Need you here."

It must have been what he'd needed to hear because he stilled and nodded. He leaned against the wall and found something interesting on the floor to look at. Carefully Clara lifted her shirt up and unbuttoned her shorts, letting them fall. Her torso was paler than the skin on her neck, legs and arms. But despite the paleness there was dozens of scars scattered across her stomach, breasts and sides. Hershel let out an audible gasp but swallowed his tears down. Clara just shut her eyes and let him have a moment.

When she felt Hershel's hands checking her ribs and making sure some of the still healing cuts and bite marks, she opened her eyes. Daryl looked enraged. His eyes traveled all over her, taking notes. The muscles in his arms were taught and his back rigid. Clara momentarily wondered if he was going to break his jaw with how tightly he had it clenched. Hershel hurried, dabbing some alcohol on the healing spots. He began talking but she couldn't make out the words.

Clara was too caught up in the fire that scorched the insides of Daryl's eye sockets. It took Hershel patting her leg, signaling for her to re dress.

"From what I could see, you're healing very well from whatever...had happened. I felt where you have had a few ribs mend." He paused and looked back at Daryl. "But I give you a clean bill of health."

Clara sighed and pulled her hair from under the collar of her shirt. The dirty material was starting to stink, terribly.

"I suggest you take a shower and get some more rest. I'll bring you some dinner here shortly." The old man stood up quickly and walked out. Clara noticed the odd behavior but she assumed it had everything to do with what he'd seen. Daryl remained quiet, to her relief. He just kept his eyes on her and after he was able to take a deep breath, he joined her. They sat in silence and he reached for her hand. It wasn't the gentle touches from earlier. It was with purpose and firm.

Clara let him worry her skin between his hands, pausing ever of often to look at the new calluses and scars. He reached over and grabbed her other hand too. With the same behavior he flipped them and studied them. Then he stopped, staring at the bite mark on the outside of her palm. It had healed up nicely, but she remembered when she had gotten it. Thomas had her on her back the third night she was with them again. He had his hand around her throat. Clara had tried to push his face away and he bit the hell out of her.

Daryl seemed to just stare before she silently with drew her hands and stood. "Can you bring me some clothes while I shower? Leave them outside for me?"

He looked up at her and then to the boxes. "Yeah." Clara reached out and touched his face, pushing the hair out of his eyes. It killed her to know that it would never be quite the same as before, but she knew that she needed Daryl more than anything. Her finger tips softly spread across the left side of his face. The man leaned into her touch before grabbing her wrist to hold her steady. If she hadn't seen it herself, she would have never believe it. But Daryl's grip softened and he placed a kiss to the inside of her palm before letting go.


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: Been strugglin' with this story lately. Uhg! Hope this update doesn't suck too much. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing TWD. **

There was nothing in the world that could have prepared him for what he'd seen. When Hershel had come in, he'd knew he'd need to leave. But neither Clara or Hershel seemed to think anything of him being in there. He'd hung up the sheet to afford Clara some privacy. Then she'd told him to stay. Part of him was grateful she'd asked him to stay, other part of him was scared of what he might see. Her eyes gave the damage away, but to see it with his own eyes...he felt as if he were going to be sick.

All over her was covered in scars and cuts. Bite marks. She'd stood proud, letting their eyes take in the evidence of her time spent away. Since the first time he'd seen her, Daryl knew the girl was of tough stock. But shit, he'd had no clue. When Clara's eyes had met his, he'd lost it. That asshole Thomas was lucky she'd killed him, if not he'd hunt him down and would have been a lot more creative. But even knowing the guy was dead already didn't do much to stifle his want to hurt somebody.

Daryl shook the thoughts of the scars from his mind. Clara could sense his moods like he could hers. She was every bit his equivalent still. Maybe even stronger. The blonde had bared herself to them. He never dared to let folks see his back. That was his cross to bare.

But he had something to do. Daryl began unstacking the boxes and crates from the corner of his room. He pilfered through and found a pair of her sleeping pants and a tee shirt. He shook the dust out of them and tossed them over his shoulder. Her clothes seemed so small to him. She had always been short and small, but she'd been healthy and fit. She'd had curves. Now, Clara was at least 10-15 pounds lighter. More lean. Daryl still thought she was gorgeous, but she looked a little older.

The hunter walked out of his cell and hurried to the showers. He came to a stop right outside the door. He heard silence from behind it. Worry made Daryl stretch his hand out towards the door knob, until he heard it. A hushed voice. He cocked his head to listen. It was Beth.

"Hang on, lean your head back." The sound of water hitting the cement floor echoed.

"Thank you for helping me."

"No worries. You're family. This is what sisters do, we help each other out." Beth's voice cracked and Daryl dropped his hand. He'd had no idea she'd need help showering.

"Don't cry, Bethy. I'm okay. Jus' the body that's hurt. It'll heal." Clara paused. "I was so worried I'd get back home and something bad would have happened."

Daryl kept Clara's clothes over his shoulders, but he sat down in the hallway. He leaned his back against the wall and listened to the conversation the girls were having. Sure it was an asshole thing to do, but Daryl just enjoyed hearing Clara's voice again.

"Well, it's a miracle the walls are still standin' honestly." Beth said softly.

"What do you mean?" Clara asked her, hissing before Beth offered up an apology.

"Sorry, didn't see that cut. Uh, well...I'd found your note." All noises ceased and Daryl felt his chest tighten. Maybe he should knock and interrupt this conversation, but a part of him felt she needed to know. After all, she'd fought her way back to him. Clara needed to know how bad it had torn him down when she'd left. She needed to know how much he cared about her, he wasn't sure he could verbalize it the way she deserved.

"I of course was a mess, Dad too. But Daryl, he snapped." His eyes closed, remembering how he'd reacted. "Man was possessed with grief. It took Rick restraining him to get him to calm down. I had stood outside listening to him. He cried." Beth paused again and the sound of water again. "I have been around Daryl for a while now, I've never seen the man cry. He just kinda boxes it up I reckon...it reminded me of a wounded animal. Broke everyone's heart."

Again, more silence fell.

"I'm sorry." Clara said. He heard footsteps and then the Greene girl spoke.

"No need for an apology. You did what you thought was best. We've all had to make calls that's left someone upset. It's just...next time, remember we're a family and we stick together. I don' think Daryl would survive you doin' somethin' like that again."

"Thanks, for telling me."

Daryl carefully stood and felt that tightness in his chest. From this moment on, he'd have a new found respect for the youngest of Hershel's daughters. She had said it. Despite his need to survive and keep the group and Clara safe, he knew he'd never survive losing her again. It had hurt too much. It had been what you hear in songs and those sappy movies his Momma would watch when he was kid.

So collecting himself, he knocked on the door and within seconds Beth's face greeted him.

"Almost done, give'r a second." She smiled, took the clothes, and shut the door back. Daryl sighed and cracked his neck, leaning against the wall. Minuets later Clara and Beth came out. The youngest girl excused herself and left the two alone. He let his eyes roam over her face, now clean and free of dirt and blood. Clara looked amazing. There wasn't nothing special done, just her standing there in her old jeans and shirt. Wet hair.

But that was the thing, to Daryl she didn't need anything to make her beautiful. He blinked and averted his eyes for a moment, trying to get a grip on himself.

"Feel better?" He asked her. The short blonde nodded and gave him a small smile.

"Like a new woman. I'm just tired already. Thinking maybe I really did myself in." Clara's hazel eyes reflected what she'd said. They were heavy already and she seemed slow in her movements as they walked towards his cell.

"So, am I relocated to your room now?" Her voice seemed too soft, her exhaustion making it sound like honey. Daryl felt a moment of panic, would she feel comfortable being that close to him? Sure she stayed last night with him but she had also been nearly delirious.

"If ya want." When they got to his cell, she looked around and up to the top bunk. He just watched her think. Clara smiled, lips barely turning up and reached for his hand without looking. Hesitantly at first, he laced his fingers through hers. After his mind calmed, his hold became more firm. Without a word, she squeezed and climbed into his bed. "I reckon that answers that question." He mumbled, feeling as if he'd just won the lottery.

Clara's eyes closed quickly and before long she was asleep. She'd survived and came back to him. They were together again. Daryl clenched his jaw, eyes looking over the small thin scars placed in random places of her face and neck. Those were the little ones, she'd been literally through hell...and fought her way back for him. The hunter took a deep breath and sat down in his chair. They weren't 'together', it hadn't been announced or claimed, but in his heart he knew he began and ended with the young woman snoozing softly in his bed.

Right now Clara was physically drained and he was sure partially in shock. She looked around as if she thought this was a dream. Before she left, there was a fire in her eyes that challenged him. Her smart mouth and flippant way she'd make decisions had driven him crazy. Good and bad. They had been a team, and they still were. Right now, Daryl knew he had to make sure she healed. Inside and out. He'd get her out soon, run her through her paces with her bow. Have Beth come in and sing with her, he might even stick around to listen this time.


End file.
